Bradford  Horton:  Man 


By 
Richard  S.  Holmes 


Bradford  Horton  :  Man.    A  Novel. 

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Dr.  Holmes  made  a  distinct  place  for  himself 
among  lovers  of  good  fiction.  This  is  a  story  of 
college  life.  The  hero  is  a  man's  man  who  wins 
instant  admiration.  Originality  of  humour,  re- 
ality of  pathos,  comedy  and  heart  tragedy  are 
woven  into  a  story  that  will  commend  itself  very 
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quips  and  quirks  and  sallies  of  a  kindly  sort  as 

sparkling  and  mellow  as  wine  of  an  old  vintage." 

—  Washington  Evening  Star. 

The  Maid  of  Honor.  A  Tale  of  Hu- 
man Nature.  I2mo,  cloth  ....  net,  $1.25. 

"  The  distinctively  personal  note  of  the  narrative 
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from  actualities — its  smoothly  flowing,  idyllic 
and  delightful  love-story ;  quaint  and  interesting 
character  types  and  buoyant,  mellow  humour  lift 
Dr.  Holmes'  pleasant  novel  quite  above  the  level 
of  commonplace." — North  American. 


Bradford  Horton:  Man 

A     NOVEL 


By 

RttCHARD    S.   HOLMES 

Author  of"  The  Maid  of  Honor? 
"The  Victor"  etc. 


NEW     YORK  CHICAGO  TORONTO 

Fleming     H.     Revell     Company 

LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  North  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


Contents 

I.  A  LAMP  THAT  NEVER  GAVE  LIGHT         .        9 

II.  THE  FATHER  OF  ANTIGONE       .        .        .18 

III.  To  AN  OLD-TIME  SWEETHEART        .        .      29 

IV.  A  CARNATION  FOR  A  SONG       ...      38 

V.  SETTING  A  SNARE    .        ...        .46 

VI.  A  SON  WHO  HARDENED  His  HEART        .      57 

VII.  THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE          .        .66 

VIII.  SURPRISED  IN  CASH  .  •  .  .      80 

IX.  ANOTHER  SONG  AND  A  FRESH  CARNATION        87 

X.  THE  SNARE  SET  AGAIN    ....      96 
XL  FILIAL  DUTY  OVERCOMES          .        .        .no 

XII.  THE  PRICE  OF  A  KEPT  PROMISE         .        .     122 

XIII.  THE  WEALTH  OF  A  GOOD  NAME       .         .127 

XIV.  GRUDGING  APOLOGIES      .        .        .        .137 

XV.  "  As  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS  "  .        .     145 

XVI.  A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES    .        .        .154 

XVII.  LIGHTNING  STROKE  AND  CLOUD        .        .166 

XVIII.  WRECKED  BANK — RESTORES  MAN    .        .174 

XIX.  A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION      .        .185 

XX.  HORSEMAN  AND  LOVER     .        .        .        .196 

XXI.  DRAMA  DONE  INTO  REAL  LIFE         .        .     202 

XXII.  VARYING  "  SUMS  OF  DIRECTION  "     .        .     207 

XXIII.  MEETINGS  FAR  AFIELD  ....     214 

5 


2136257 


e  CONTENTS 

XXIV.  BITTER  WORDS  AND  SWEET  .  .  .221 

XXV.  ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD  .  .231 

XXVI.  "  GONE— BUT  NOT  FOREVER"  .  ,.246 

XXVII.  REVELATION  AND  REMORSE    .  .  .    256 

XXVIII.  THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS  .  .    265 

XXIX.  TIDINGS  FROM  THE  FOREST    .  >  .    278 

XXX.  THE  APPEAL  OF  THE  CAMP    .  .    289 

XXXI.  «  MY  SON  !  MY  SON  1 "  .        .  .    295 


A  LAMP  THAT  NEVER  GAVE  LIGHT 

BRADFORD  HORTON  looked  at  his  watch, 
glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  bank  tower,  then 
shook  his  head.  "Like  me,  too  slow.  This 
will  never  do.  You  must  keep  up,  whether  I  do  or 
not."  He  set  the  watch.  Then  thrusting  his  hand 
into  his  trousers  pocket  he  brought  out  a  half-dollar. 

"  "Well,  there's  all  I  have  to  show  for  three  years  out 
of  college.  But  I've  paid  my  debts,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  have  any  more  debts.  Tough  ?  Like  enough,  but 
I'll  make  good.  I'll  make  good,  too,  right  here,  in 
this  town." 

The  bell  of  the  tower  clock  caught  his  ear. 

"  Five  o'clock.  Getting  late.  I  must  make  a  move 
and  find  the  seminary." 

The  day  was  hazy  and  lights  already  gleamed  in 
some  store  windows.  The  young  man  strolled  along 
Stanton  Avenue,  passed  out  of  the  business  part  of  town 
and  sauntered  dreamily  along  through  the  beautiful 
residence  section,  enjoying  the  lawns,  the  elms,  the  fine 
houses,  till  he  came  to  one  of  unusual  elegance.  Be- 
fore it  he  seated  himself  on  the  carriage  stone. 

"What  a  fool  I've  been.  But  I'll  quit.  I'll  win 

my  fight.  I'll  show  my  mother "  He  rose  and 

started  hastily  back  towards  the  business  district,  deter- 
mined to  inquire  for  the  Preston  bury  Theological  Semi- 
nary. Two  gray  squirrels  on  a  lawn  came  close  to  him, 

9 


10  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

eyed  him  for  a  moment,  then  bounded  up  an  elm.  He 
laughed  as  they  vanished,  but  a  sigh  followed : 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  to  the  top  of  life  as  easily." 

Farther  on  two  girls  were  standing,  evidently  about 
to  part.  "  That  man's  a  stranger,  Alice,"  one  said  as 
he  passed.  "  A  mighty  good  looking  stranger,  too." 

"  As  your  Joe  would  say,  Lennie,  the  court  sustains 
the  finding." 

Both  laughed.  "My  Joe?  I've  no  Joe,  goosie. 
There's  John  Anderson,  my  Jo,  but  did  you  ever  hear 
of  Joe  Jickerson,  my  Jo  ?  "  Both  laughed  again,  and 
both  looked  after  the  man  who  had  passed. 

Though  he  heard  none  of  this,  Horton's  sensitive 
soul  surmised  that  the  girls  were  discussing  him,  and 
his  steps  quickened.  Nevertheless,  he  had  observed 
the  two  as  he  passed,  and  made  mental  comment. 
"  Head  classic ;  eyes  like  wells  of  fire ;  beautiful 

as "  He  turned  for  one  more  look  at  that  girl, 

and  their  eyes  met — hers  lustrous,  his  dark,  full  and 
strong.  His  [face  crimsoned  and  he  dashed  down  the 
avenue  as  if  pursued.  "  Can  I  never  be  done  with  girls  ? 
"Will  they  haunt  me  here  also  ?  Shade  of  Antigone ! 
What  eyes !  What  eyes ! " 

«/  «/ 

A  sudden  call  stopped  him.  "Horton!  Here, 
Horton !  What  you  doing  here  ?  Don't  you  know 
me  ?  Well,  I  know  you,  all  right." 

The  appearance  of  the  speaker  was  striking.  His 
face  was  bright  and  clear  and  looked  true,  but  his  garb 
and  demeanour  were  those  of  a  rustic  who,  having  had 
sufficient  touch  with  cultured  life  to  make  him  wish  to 
conform  to  it,  was  yet  unable  to  reach  his  own  ideals. 
His  clothes  did  not  fit,  and  were  not  altogether  of  the 
prevailing  style.  Horton  was  a  little  ashamed  to  be 
seen  with  him. 


A  LAMP  THAT  NEVER  GAVE  LIGHT     11 

"  How  are  you,  Horton  ?  Don't  know  me  yet  ? 
Well,  you  should — Austin  Sleighton.  Pulled  you  out 
of  a  snow-bank.  Don't  you  remember,  up  on  the  hill 
by  old  Professor  Tabor's  last  winter  ?  You  went  in 
head  first — remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember."  The  tone  of  the  reply  was  re- 
pellent. The  man  was  a  last  year's  senior  at  Catlin 
College,  and  the  sled  incident  was  still  fresh  in  Horton's 
memory. 

"  You  looked  tough  that  morning.  You  surely  did. 
You'd  been  trying  to  steer  the  big  sled  down  the  hill, 
and  you  didn't  know  the  hill.  Remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember.     But  that's  ancient  history." 

"Not  much.  That's  about  the  freshest  ever.  I've 
seen  lots  of  capsizes,  but  never  one  that  beat  that.  All 
of  you  that  stuck  out  of  the  drift  was  your  legs,"  and 
he  went  off  into  a  laugh  that  stopped  his  talking,  till 
presently  he  returned  to  his  repeated  question,  "  Re- 
member ?  " 

"  Remember  ?  Yes ;  I  wish  I  could  forget.  Why 
do  you  come  crowding  it  on  me  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  Horton.  I  didn't  know  you  cared.  I 
meant  no  offense.  But  that  was  a  tough  lot  of  men. 
How  came  you  to  be  with  that  crowd  ?  " 

"  Same  fraternity,  that's  all.  They  asked  me  to  an 
initiation,  and  there  was  too  much  whiskey  after  the 
show.  Didn't  you  ever  get  in  with  such  a  crowd  ?  " 

"  Never." 

That  word  was  a  settler.  They  walked  for  a  block 
in  silence,  Horton  trying  to  devise  some  way  to  escape 
from  his  companion.  Suddenly  Sleighton  began  again : 

"  Ever  been  here  before  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Here  for  long  ?  " 


12  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"Three  years." 

"  Seminary  ?    Going  to  enter  the  seminary  ?  " 

"  Yes."    The  reply  was  very  curt. 

"  Where  you  going  now  ?  " 

"  Where  you  are,  apparently,  whether  I  want  to  or 
not." 

The  reply  would  have  frozen  out  most  men,  but  it  did 
not  disturb  Sleighton.  His  answer  came  with  the  ut- 
most good  nature : 

"  Don't  be  grumpy,  Horton.  I'm  going  to  enter  the 
seminary  myself.  We're  bound  to  be  classmates,  and 
we'd  better  be  friends.  Ever  seen  the  sem  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Got  a  place  to  stay  to-night  ?  Got  a  place  for  sup- 
per?" 

"  Stay  ?  Supper  ?  I'll  get  both  at  the  seminary,  of 
course." 

"  Ho,  man,  that  won't  go.  You've  no  room,  and  you 
can't  sleep  there  without  one,  and  there's  no  dining 
hall.  The  seminary  isn't  a  boarding-house.  The  first 
thing  here  is  to  get  a  room  ;  the  next  is  a  grub  hunt." 

Horton  saw  his  chance  for  escape.  "  I'm  obliged  for 
the  information,  Mr.  Sleighton,  and  I'll  not  bore  you 
any  more.  I'll  go  on  a  grub  hunt,"  and  starting  ahead 
at  a  rapid  pace  he  left  his  companion  behind. 

But  Austin  Sleighton  was  lonesome.  Even  a  man  in 
a  humour  like  Horton's  was  better  than  no  one,  sojie  ran 
after  him,  calling : 

"Hold  on!  Wait!  What's  your  hurry  ?  You  don't 
know  where  to  go,  and  I  do.  I've  found  a  good  grub 
place  that's  only  three  dollars  a  week.  Come  with  me. 
It's  good ;  my  treat,  too." 

Horton  was  hungry,  and  the  invitation  not  only  made 
him  thoroughly  ashamed  but  hungrier  than  he  was  be- 


A  LAMP  THAT  NEVER  GAVE  LIGHT     13 

fore.  He  accepted,  but  was  very  ill  at  ease  until  half 
through  the  meal,  when  Sleighton  quoted  a  text  from 
Paul  in  Greek.  That  broke  the  ice.  Horton  at  once 
replied,  giving  in  Greek  what  followed,  and  in  an  en- 
tirely changed  manner  added :  "  Sleighton,  I've  been  a 
fool.  You've  been  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  me,  and  they 
burn.  "Will  you  take  my  hand  and  forget  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  good-natured  answer,  and  with  the 
hand-shake  began  a  friendship  which  was  to  last  a  life- 
tune. 

In  the  street  Sleighton  said,  "  "Wasn't  that  a  high-G 
supper  ?  Now  we'll  go  to  the  dean's  and  get  you  a 
room.  But  you'll  want  a  lamp." 

"  What  ?    Doesn't  the  seminary  furnish  lamps  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it's  not  a  house-furnishing  plant.  Have  to  buy 
your  own." 

Horton  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  his  hesitation 
made  Sleighton  say,  "  "What  are  you  thinking  about  ? 
Anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  was  only  wondering  whether  I  dared  to  ask 
you  to  let  me  sit  in  your  room  till  bedtime  ?  I'll  have 
to  go  to  bed  in  the  dark." 

"  "Why,  no,  you  won't.     Buy  one  now." 

"  Buy  ?  I  buy  a  lamp  ?  If  lamps  were  selling  at  a 
half-penny  each  I  couldn't  buy  a  quarter  of  one.  I've 
just  money  enough  to  move  my  trunk  from  the  station 
and  pay  for  my  breakfast." 

Sleighton  gave  a  low  whistle.  "  No  money  ?  Tough. 
But  I'll  lend  you  money  until  yours  comes." 

In  a  dogged  tone  Horton  answered,  "  No  you  don't. 
I'll  not  borrow,  for  I've  no  money  coming.  I'll  earn 
what  money  I  have." 

"What'llyoudo?" 

"Work." 


14  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  Yes,  that  sounds  good.  But  what  at  ?  What  can 
you  do  ?  " 

"  Saw  wood,  write,  keep  books,  tutor  boys,  carve  for 
a  boarding-house,  play  ball,  sing." 

"  Sing  ?    What  part  do  you  sing  ?  " 

"  Tenor." 

"  Good  !  You're  the  fellow  I  was  going  to  look  for 
to-morrow.  I've  got  a  job  as  organist  of  the  Second 
Church,  and  their  tenor's  sick.  They  asked  me  to-day 
to  get  a  student  for  next  Sunday.  It's  only  three  dol- 
lars, but  it's  yours  if  you'll  take  it." 

The  organist  took  some  money  from  his  pocket. 
"  I'll  pay  in  advance,"  he  said.  "  No  loan  about  this. 
Now,  we'll  go  buy  a  lamp.  Let's  try  over  yonder." 

He  pointed  to  a  drug  store  and  they  crossed  the 
street.  The  sign  read,  "  John  Jickers  and  Son. 
Founded  in  1827."  As  they  entered  a  young  man  met 
them,  short  in  stature,  alert  in  manner,  boyish-look- 
ing. Horton  and  Sleighton  thought  him  a  rather  fresh 
clerk. 

"  Good-evening,"  was  his  salutation.  "  Welcome  ! 
Strangers  in  this  bailiwick,  gentlemen  ?  New  students 
for  the  seminary,  gentlemen  ?  " 

Horton  acknowledged  the  courtesy,  and  asked,  "  Do 
you  keep  kerosene  lamps  ?  " 

"  Lamps  for  burning  kerosene,  do  you  mean  ?  In  the 
judgment  of  this  court,  there  are  no  kerosene  lamps. 
Understand  ?  No  kerosene  lamps.  We  do  not  keep 
lamps.  This  is  a  drug  house — John  Jickers  and  Son} 
A.  D.  1827." 

"  House  for  selling  drugs,  I  presume  you  mean,"  said 
Horton  gravely.  "In  petitioner's  opinion,  to  follow 
your  honour's  method,  there  are  no  drug  houses." 

The  young  fellow  leaned  back  against  the  counter, 


A  LAMP  THAT  NEVER  GAVE  LIGHT     15 

and  laughing,  called  to  a  tall,  red-haired  man  farther 
down  the  store :  "  Oren-Toole,  did  you  hear  that  ?  He 
caromed.  Yes,  sir ;  caromed  on  the  dark  red,  the  little 
old  dark  red." 

Turning  back  to  Horton,  he  continued,  "Two  for 
you,  petitioner.  You  can  score.  But  about  lamps,  we 
kept  them  once,  and  perhaps  we  may  be  able  to  find 
one.  I'll  look."  Without  waiting  for  an  answer  he 
vanished  up  a  flight  of  stairs. 

"  Is  that  boy  crazy  ?  "  asked  Sleighton. 

"  No.  He  has  some  law  jargon  in  his  brain,  and  likes 
to  get  it  off.  It  makes  him  unusual  in  a  way,  and  I 
suppose  he  knows  it." 

As  they  waited  the  man  called  Oren-Toole  inspected 
them.  Horton,  moved  by  a  similar  impulse,  took  a 
sharp  look  at  him,  of  which  the  red-headed  man  at  once 
became  conscious.  With  it  he  was  also  aware  of  a 
sudden  antipathy  to  this  man  with  the  penetrating 
glance. 

The  clerk  returned  presently  with  beaming  face  and 
a  small  glass  lamp.  "  Just  as  I  thought,  gentlemen ;  or 
better,  just  as  I  hoped.  You're  in  luck.  There's  not  an- 
other lamp  like  this  in  this  town.  Superextra  brand  of 
glass.  Bare,  such  glass.  Carbonate  of  lead,  you  know. 
Chemistry  behind  this  lamp,  gentlemen.  Unblowup- 
able,  gentlemen.  Price  ?  Only  a  quarter  with  a  wick, 
and  full  of  oil.  Just  one  little  old  quarter." 

Horton  made  no  hesitation.  With  money  in  his 
pocket  he  was  at  ease  for  the  present.  "  I'll  take  it," 
he  said. 

"  Good !  good !  "  answered  the  little  man.  "  You've 
got  something  fine,  and  I'm  pleased  to  have  served  you. 
Come  in  again.  No  more  lamps,  but  lots  of  calomel, 
you  know.  We're  John  Jickers  and  Son ;  A.  D.  1827. 


16  BKADFOKD  HORTON:  MAN 

I'm  the  son.  Forty-eight  years  right  on  this  spot. 
Oh,  no  ;  not  I.  No.  John  Jickers,  my  father.  Great 
thing  to  be  forty-eight  years  on  one  spot." 

"  Must  be  pretty  crowded  spot  with  that  many  years 
on  it,"  Horton  commented  grimly. 

At  that  the  little  man  almost  exploded.  His  laugh 
over,  he  called :  "  Oren-Toole,  Oren-Toole,  did  you  hear 
that  ? "  Turning  to  Horton,  he  added,  "  You're  too 
good  a  player  for  me,  petitioner.  Every  pin  down  on  the 

alley.  Every  pin.  Bowled  me  clear  out.  Bowled " 

His  abrupt  stop  was  caused  by  the  entrance  of  a  new 
customer.  "  Good-night,  gentlemen ;  good-night." 

When  Joseph  Jickers  was  once  more  at  liberty  the 
red-haired  man  came  up.  "  J.  J.,"  he  drawled,  "  that 
was  a  fine  pair.  One  was  a  hayseed,  the  other  a  dude." 

"  Court  denies  the  motion.  What's  the  matter  with 
counsel  ?  " 

"  That  dude's  the  matter.  Hayseed's  all  right.  He's 
the  stuff  ministers  are  made  of ;  took  that  lamp  story 
all  in.  But  Dudie  !  There's  no  parson  in  him.  He's  a 
Nancy  boy.  He  ought  to  wear  a  silk  jacket." 

"  See  here,  O.-T.  That  fellow  knows  something  as 
well  as  you  do.  How  he  got  on  to  my  chaffing !  Most 
new  students  are  green  as  grass,  but  he's  not.  He's 
travelled.  Don't  be  an  idiot  now.  You'll  live  to  think 
he's  the  finest  man  in  Prestonbury." 

"  Never.     He's  a  Nancy  boy.     I  loathe  that  sort." 

Outside  the  store  Horton  said  to  his  new  friend  : 
"  Sleighton,  wait  a  minute.  I'm  going  to  the  boarding- 
house  to  pay  a  week's  board ;  after  that  I'll  see  the 
dean." 

Sleighton  went  with  him.  The  streets  were  not  well 
lighted,  and  the  night  was  dark.  Neither  man  noticed 
a  sharp  depression  in  the  sidewalk,  and  Horton,  stum- 


A  LAMP  THAT  NEVER  GAVE  LIGHT     17 

bling,  fell  headlong,  hat  going  one  way,  lamp  another. 
Horton  scrambled  up,  and  leaning  against  a  tree 
laughed  as  if  it  was  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world.  A 
man  across  the  street  saw  the  fall,  and  hearing  the 
laugh  commented,  ;'  Well,  he's  not  hurt,  anyway." 

As  Horton  got  to  his  feet  he  said,  "  Sleighton,  it's  go 
to  bed  in  the  dark  after  all." 

The  man  across  the  street  heard.  "  It's  Nancy  boy," 
he  said,  and  added,  "  That  was  a  Humpty-Dumpty  fall, 
Nancy." 

An  hour  later  he  sauntered  into  the  drug  store  and 
told  Joe  'Jickers  the  story.  Joe's  only  comment  was, 
"  One  fall  and  one  broken  lamp  won't  beat  that  fellow, 
O.-T.  You'll  hear  more  of  him." 

The  clerk  and  his  friend  left  the  store  together.  As 
they  were  about  to  part  Oren-Toole  said  in  an  offhand 
manner,  "  By  the  way,  J.  J.,  has  the  doctor  engaged  a 
tenor  yet  ?  You  know  I  put  my  name  in  two  weeks 
ago." 

"  No,  O.-T.  The  doctor  hasn't  engaged  anybody,  but 
he  has  you  on  his  mind." 

"  Keep  his  mind  right  there,  will  you,  J.  J.  ?  " 


n 

THE  FATHEE  OF  ANTIGOITE 

JOSEPH  JICKEKS  was  early  at  his  store,  alert  as 
ever,  and  thinking  even  more  vigorously  than 
usual.  He  found  his  conscience  saying:  "You 
palmed  off  a  bit  of  junk  on  a  young  fellow  last  night. 
Now  he's  down  on  his  luck  and  needs  a  friend.  You'd 
better  go  out  and  straighten  things  up."  So  Joseph 
went  out. 

Bradford  Horton  had  awakened  that  morning  con- 
fused by  unfamiliar  surroundings.  The  dark  bedroom 
lighted  by  an  open  door,  the  poor  bed,  the  wash-stand, 
the  coal  box,  gave  him  at  first  no  clew  to  his  where- 
abouts. But  immediately  memory  whispered  some- 
thing about  a  man  named  Sleighton,  about  a  little 
druggist  and  a  lamp.  He  laughed,  sat  up,  crept 
slowly  out  of  bed.  The  night  had  been  his  first  in 
the  theological  seminary,  and  that  day  would  deter- 
mine whether  it  was  to  be  his  last. 

Half  dressed,  he  went  to  the  window  and  saw  the 
campus  spreading  away  to  an  avenue  along  which 
already  the  stream  of  daily  business  was  pouring.  He 
could  hear  the  wheezing  of  a  pump  where  a  man 
was  drawing  water,  and  the  sound  suggested  that  he 
should  fill  his  water  pitcher.  As  he  went  on  that 
errand  he  saw  his  trunk  in  the  corridor  and  laughed. 
Back  in  his  room  he  made  a  swift  inventory  of  the 
furniture.  An  old  Boston  rocker  by  the  table  ap- 

18 


THE  FATHER  OF  ANTIGONE  19 

pealed  to  him  most.  It  brought  college  vividly  to 
mind.  Presently  Sleighton  entered.  "  Hello,  Horton ! 
Not  dressed  yet  ?  Grub  time.  Hurry  up !  Your 
exam's  at  nine." 

Horton  reentered  that  room  at  eleven  o'clock  with 
face  flushed,  brain  excited,  his  argumentative  tempera- 
ment thoroughly  aroused.  The  examination  was  over. 
Whether  he  would  be  admitted  or  not  he  did  not 
know,  and  hardly  cared.  For  relief  he  began  to  sing, 
"  If  with  all  your  hearts  ye  truly  seek  me."  He  was 
so  taken  with  his  song  that  he  did  not  notice  he  had 
auditors  until  suddenly  there  was  a  burst  of  applause 
followed  by  an  exclamation  from  Sleighton. 

"  Oh,  Horton,  what  a  singer  you  are  !  Who  knew 
you  could  sing  like  that  ?  " 

"  Like  what  ?  "  he  asked  in  reply,  and  turning  saw 
four  other  men  with  Sleighton. 

"Pardon  me,  old  man.  We  were  passing,  heard 
your  voice,  and  just  had  to  come  in.  These  men  are 
classmates." 

Horton  greeted  them  cordially  and  Sleighton  went  on 
talking.  "  Have  you  been  admitted  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.  Don't  care  much.  Professor  Drag- 
ham  told  me  I  could  retire,  so  I  retired." 

Sleighton  chuckled.  "  Old  Dragham  must  have  put 
you  through." 

"  He  did ;  put  me  clear  through."  Then  changing 
the  subject,  "  Shall  I  sing  next  Sunday  that  song  you 
just  heard  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  It  will  be  great.  But  cool  off  now.  Don't 
mind  Dragham.  It'll  be  all  right,"  and  as  he  spoke  the 
five  disappeared. 

Alone,  Horton  dropped  into  the  Boston  rocker. 
"  Oh,  this  is  good  ! "  he  said.  "  And  that  advice  was 


20  BKADFOKD  HORTON  :  MAN 

good,  too.  I'll  cool  off."  And  putting  his  feet  on  the 
table,  he  lay  back  in  the  chair  as  if  to  go  to  sleep. 

A  knock  roused  him  and  a  messenger  boy  said,  "  Are 
you  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 

"  Yes.    What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  This  'ere's  fer  you,  then,"  answered  the  boy. 

Horton  took  the  offered  package,  and  found  in  it  a 
lamp  and  a  note : 

"My  DEAR  SIB: 

"  Court  has  heard  with  regret  of  the  accident 
and  loss  which  petitioner  sustained  last  night.  It  was 
due  to  no  fault  of  petitioner,  but  wholly  to  the  condi- 
tion of  our  city  streets.  Court  therefore  wishes  to  meet 
his  share  of  the  responsibility  as  a  taxpayer,  and  asks 
you  to  accept  the  accompanying  lamp. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"J.  J." 

Amused,  annoyed  and  pleased  at  once,  acting  on  the 
impulse  that  seized  him,  Horton  was  in  the  drug  store 
in  fifteen  minutes.  The  druggist  met  him  as  before. 
Horton  went  straight  at  his  errand.  "  Are  you  J.  J.?  " 
he  asked,  holding  out  the  note. 

"  Court  cannot  deny  it,"  came  the  characteristic  an- 
swer. 

"Did  the  man  who  was  with  me  last  night  tell 
you  of  my  mishap?" 

"  No,  petitioner." 

"  But  you  knew  that  I  fell  and  broke  my  lamp  ?  " 

"  Court  acknowledges  the  charge." 

"  You  are  the  son  and  partner  of  Dr.  John  Jickers, 
you  said  last  night." 

"  Court  acknowledges.  I  am  Joseph  Jickers,  at  your 
service,  and  commonly  called  Joe." 


THE  FATHER  OF  ANTIGONE  21 

"  Well,  Mr.  Jickers,  I  thank  you  for  your  courteous 
act.  The  new  lamp  is  even  better  than  the  carbonate. 
But — and  now  please  take  no  offense — I  cannot  accept 
the  lamp  as  a  gift.  I  will  not  be  under  obligations 
in  such  ways  to  any  one.  I  will  keep  the  lamp  if 
you  will  permit  me  to  pay  for  it;  otherwise  I  shall 
return  it." 

Joseph  Jickers  was  astonished.  A  theological  stu- 
dent who  would  not  accept  a  gift  was  new.  He  was 
so  astonished  that  he  made  poor  work  of  his  reply. 

"Court— ah — suppose  that — ah — court  doesn't  im- 
pose any  fine,  you  know,  any  costs,  you  know,  any — 
ah " 

Horton  began  to  laugh.  "  Mr.  Jickers,  I  understand 
you,  and  I  want  you  to  understand  me.  I  appreciate 
your  kindness,  and  want  you  to  appreciate  and  respect 
my  independence.  I  want  to  know  the  price  of  that 
lamp  ;  you  will  tell  me,  or  we  shall  never  be  friends — 
and  I  need  friends  sadly  enough,  God  knows." 

For  a  moment  Joe  looked  at  him  in  admiration,  and 
when  he  spoke  his  words  were  free  from  banter. 

"  You  are  a  new  sort,  Mr.  Horton.  You  won't  let 
me  give  you  that  lamp  ?  Very  well.  You  may  pay 
for  it.  Take  your  own  time.  The  price  is  two  fifty." 

As  he  finished  he  offered  his  hand  and  added,  "  I 
hope  we  shall  know  each  other  better." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Jickers.  I  hope  so,  too.  Now 
may  I  presume  on  your  kindness  to  say  that  though  I 
would  not  accept  help  in  the  way  you  offered,  there 
is  a  way  in  which  I  would  like  to  be  helped.  I  want 
work.  Perhaps  you  can  help  along  that  line." 

"  Tough  job  to  get  work  for  another  fellow  in  this 
town.  What  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  Write,  keep  books,  sing " 


22  BEADFOKD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  Hold  on,  petitioner ;  don't  go  too  fast.  Petitioner 
says  he  can  write.  Will  he  give  court  a  sample  ? " 
Sentiment  past,  the  druggist  had  dropped  back  into  the 
law  jargon  once  more. 

"  Certainly." 

Jickers  led  Horton  to  his  own  desk.  "Pen,  ink, 
paper,  all  ready,"  he  said. 

Bradford  wrote  out  a  promissory  note  for  the  price 
of  the  lamp.  The  young  man  took  it,  looked  at  it, 
then  at  Horton,  then  again  at  the  paper.  "  You  wrote 
that !  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  your  honour." 

"  Petitioner,  you've  no  business  to  be  in  the  seminary. 
Your  business  is  to  be  in  business.  I  guess  I  can  get 
you  a  job.  Want  to  go  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  honour." 

Joe  got  his  hat.     "  Come  on,"  he  said. 

They  went  to  the  Preston  National  Bank,  and  with- 
out announcement  entered  the  cashier's  office.  As  they 
passed  through  the  banking  room  Horton  saw  that  the 
teller  was  Oren-Toole,  who  flashed  a  side  glance  that 
somehow  made  him  feel  a  bit  uncomfortable.  Intro- 
ductions followed  in  the  cashier's  office. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell,"  said  Jickers,  "  I've  found  a  man 
who  can  do  that  index  job.  Don't  turn  him  down. 
You  were  the  best  penman  in  this  city  before  he 
came.  Look  at  this,"  and  he  produced  the  note.  "  I'll 
leave  you  now.  Don't  turn  him  down,  Sam ;  he's  a 
new  sort." 

Half  an  hour  later  Horton  left  the  bank  engaged  to 
make  a  new  index  of  depositors  in  the  savings  depart- 
ment, for  which  he  was  to  receive  twenty-five  dollars. 
In  passing  through  the  outer  office  Mr.  Maxwell  in- 
troduced him  to  the  teller.  Each  bowed,  but  neither 


THE  FATHER  OF  ANTIGONE  23 

offered  his  hand.  "  I  have  seen  Mr.  Toole  before,"  said 
Horton. 

"  Oren-Toole,  if  you  please,  sir,"  and  the  frigid  reply 
again  made  Horton  wince.  But  when  the  cashier  said, 
"  I  have  engaged  Mr.  Horton  for  the  index,"  the  look 
that  passed  over  Oren-Toole's  face  was  so  plainly  one 
of  disappointment  and  hate  that  Horton  could  not  un- 
derstand it  at  all. 

As  he  walked  away  from  the  bank  he  met  the  two 
girls  whom  he  had  seen  the  night  before.  Again  the 
fire  of  the  eyes  of  one  burned  into  his  soul.  His  hand- 
some face  took  on  a  look  of  dissatisfaction,  and  he  said 
to  himself  angrily  :  "  Oh,  confound  girls  ;  confound 
me  ;  confound I  thought  I  was  coming  to  a  para- 
dise without  a  peri Oh,  well ! " 


At  eight  o'clock  that  evening  the  dean  of  the  seminary 
sat  in  the  private  office  of  Mr.  Elmore,  one  of  the 
influential  trustees  of  the  institution.  The  first  words 
the  banker  spoke  led  directly  to  the  matter  that  had 
caused  the  dean's  call. 

"  Anything  new  with  you  to-day,  dean  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  eighteen  students,  and  one  of  them  a  charac- 
ter. I  may  truly  say  a  character." 

"  Character  ?    What's  he  done  ?  " 

"  Been  examined,  and  made  a  rumpus." 

"  What  sort  of  a  rumpus  ?  Go  ahead  with  your 
story." 

"All  right.  He's  a  young  fellow  called  Horton. 
He's  the  best  Greek  scholar  that  has  ever  come  to  us, 
but  he's  full  of  notions.  The  examination  was  nearly 
over  when  Dragham  asked  him  suddenly, '  Mr.  Horton, 


24  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

have  you  had  a  call  to  the  ministry  ? '  'I  don't  know,' 
was  the  answer ;  '  that  is  what  I  am  here  to  learn.' 
Dragham  saw  a  chance  for  a  controversy  and  continued, 
'  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? '  '  What  my  words  sig- 
nify,' was  the  answer.  '  Of  course,  of  course ;  but  what 
do  they  signify?'  'That  I  do  not  know  what  you 
mean  by  having  a  call.  If  calls  sound  in  the  air, 
and  men  near  them,  I  have  had  no  call,  for  I  have 
heard  no  sound.  But  I  expect  to  learn  whether  I  am 
called  by  testing  the  sum  of  direction  in  my  life  the 
next  three  years.' 

"  Dragham  was  nonplused.  '  What  does  that  mean, 
Mr.  Horton  ? '  he  asked  once  more.  '  It  means  that  any 
man  of  good  endowment  ought  to  know  from  the  events 
of  daily  life  for  what  he  is  fitted.  When  his  observa- 
tions of  himself  have  been  long  enough  and  acute 
enough,  he  knows  what  God  would  have  him  do,  and 
that  constitutes  a  call.'  " 

Mr.  Elmore  stopped  his  visitor.  "Say,  dean,  that 
young  man  has  more  sense  than  all  of  you  on  the  hill. 
What  did  Dragham  say  to  that?" 

"  He  said,  '  Then  you  do  not  believe  in  a  call,  Mr. 
Horton  ? '  '  No,  sir,'  Horton  answered,  '  not  as  the 
term  is  ordinarily  used.  If  I  should  receive  a  telegram 
to-day  offering  me  the  chair  of  Greek  at  Catlin  College 
I  would  accept  it.  The  sum  of  direction  for  the  last 
seven  years  would  make  me  sure  that  I  was  called.' 
'  Do  we  understand  that  you  would  prefer  a  Greek  pro- 
fessorship to  a  ministry  of  the  Gospel?'  asked  Drag- 
ham.  '  I  suggested  no  such  thing,'  answered  Horton  ; 
'  I  only  illustrated  what  1  meant.'  *  Have  you  a  burn- 
ing, a  consuming  desire  to  preach  the  Gospel,  Mr.  Hor- 
ton ? '  '  No,  sir,'  he  replied.  '  Have  you  a  call  to  any- 
thing, Mr.  Horton  ? '  '  Yes,'  came  the  answer,  '  I  have 


THE  FATHEK  OF  ANTIGONE  25 

a  call  to  keep  out  of  debt,  and  an  equal  call  to  earn 
what  money  I  can  without  neglecting  my  studies.' 

"  '  Are  you  not  taking  a  rather  commercial  view  of 
life,  Mr.  Horton  ?  Where  does  the  spiritual  life  come 
into  your  scheme ? '  'At  the  door  of  no  debt,'  he  re- 
plied— '  in  the  seminary  if  possible,  but  if  not,  then  out 
of  it.  My  spiritual  aspirations  are  to  owe  no  man  any- 
thing.' '  But,'  objected  Dragham,  *  if  we  admit  you  the 

Board  of  Education  will  provide  you  with  money ' 

Dragham  got  no  further.  Like  a  flash  the  man  broke 
out,  *  Never  !  Never !  I'll  earn  my  own  way  into  the 
ministry,  or  I  will  not  go.' 

"  That  was  the  end  of  it.  Dragham  gave  in.  But 
our  faculty  discussion  over  him  was  lively." 

"  Did  you  admit  him  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  does  this  chap  hail  from  ?  " 

"  From  Glencoe,  in  this  state." 

"  Glencoe  ?  Why,  I  used  to  know  a  girl  from  that 
town." 

Mr.  Elmore  mused  when  the  dean  had  gone.  "  Glen- 
coe ?  That's  strange.  Rosalie  married  a  man  named 
Horton." 

On  the  following  day  Bradford  Horton  received  a 
surprising  note.  It  asked  him  to  call  that  evening  at 
846  Stanton  Avenue,  and  was  signed  Richard  P.  Elmore. 
Thinking  it  might  mean  more  work,  he  called.  As  he 
was  approaching  the  house  he  recognized  it  as  the  one 
on  whose  carriage  stone  he  had  seated  himself  two 
afternoons  before.  Mr.  Elmore's  greeting  was  cordial 
and  he  plunged  into  preliminaries  witho.ut  waste  of 
time. 

"  I  am  a  trustee  of  the  seminary  and  interested  in  all 
the  young  men  there.  I  try  to  make  the  acquaintance 


26  BKADFORD  HOKTON  :  MAN 

of  as  many  of  them  as  possible.  The  dean  has  reported 
to  me  the  examination  you  underwent  yesterday  and 
that  made  me  particularly  anxious  to  see  you.  I  think, 
probably,  you  were  right,  but  I  am  sure  you  are  in  ad- 
vance of  your  times.  I  must  caution  you  to  be  a  little 
careful  about  utterances  on  such  themes.  Where  is  your 
home,  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 

"  In  Glencoe  of  this  state." 

"  Is  your  father  a  banker  named  Henry  Horton  ?  " 

"That  was  my  father's  name,  but  he  is  not  living 
now." 

"  Ah  1  That  is  sad.  I  asked  because,  being  a  banker 
myself,  I  have  known  a  little  of  him.  It  strikes  me  as 
somewhat  strange  that  a  banker's  son  should  be  in  need 
of  financial  aid,  as  I  gathered  from  the  dean  to  be  the 
case  with  you." 

"  That  is  easily  explained,  Mr.  Elmore.  My  father 
was  well  to  do,  and  I  was  reared  in  affluence.  He  left 
no  will.  My  mother  and  brother  were  the  executors 
and  the  estate  has  never  been  divided.  I  have  only 
such  money  as  my  mother  chooses  to  allow,  and  when  I 
decided  to  study  for  the  ministry  there  came  a  break 
between  us,  and  the  allowance  I  have  had  has  ceased." 

"  That  is  surely  unfortunate,  Mr.  Horton.  Of  course 
the  break  can  be  only  temporary,  but  while  it  lasts  it  is 
unfortunate.  What  did  you  say  was  your  mother's 
name  ?  " 

"I  did  not  say.     But  it  is  Kosalie  Morwell  Horton." 

Little  by  little,  cautiously,  tentatively,  this  man  of 
the  world  worked  his  way  into  the  confidence  of  the 
young  man.  The  story  he  told  was  full  of  interest  to 
his  auditor. 

"  When  I  entered  college  I  intended  to  become  a 
lawyer,  and  I  studied  for  three  years,  keeping  entirely 


THE  FATHER  OF  ANTIGONE  27 

away  from  society.  The  only  social  recreation  I  al- 
lowed myself  was  that  which  came  from  being  con- 
nected with  a  church  choir  in  the  village.  I  sang  in  it 
for  three  years.  In  my  last  year  I  met  and  became 
engaged  to  a  young  girl  and,  I  regret  to  say,  neglected 
my  college  work  and  lost  the  valedictory  which  every 
one  supposed  I  had  already  won.  This  displeased  my 
mother. 

"  Shortly  after  graduating  I  was  engaged  as  leader 
for  the  choir  where  I  had  been  singing,  and  went  back 
to  Gaston  so  that  I  might  be  near  my  fiancee.  There  I 
began  the  study  of  law.  Over  this  my  mother  and  I 
had  a  serious  quarrel.  I  failed  in  Gaston,  neglecting 
both  my  choir  and  law  books  for  the  girl.  I  ran  deeply 
in  debt,  and  in  the  spring,  when  I  was  at  the  end  of  my 
rope,  there  came  an  order  from  my  mother  to  accept  a 
position  as  teacher  in  a  school  for  boys  not  far  from 
New  York.  I  went,  and  for  a  year  and  a  half  worked 
as  hard  as  any  one  could.  Then  my — my  fiancee  died. 
For  another  year  I  taught  and  saved  enough  to  pay  all 
my  Gaston  debts,  and  formed  the  purpose  of  entering 
the  ministry,  and  over  this  decision  my  mother  and  I 
have  quarrelled  bitterly.  Perhaps  she  is  right ;  I  do  not 
know,  but  here  I  am,  and  here  I  will  stay  until  I  know 
whether  God  wishes  me  to  preach  or  not." 

Neither  spoke  for  some  time  after  this  recital,  but  at 
last  Mr.  Elmore  broke  the  silence  with  a  question. 
""Would  you  have  married  the  Gaston  girl  had  she 
lived?" 

"  Surely,"  was  the  answer. 

"  That  answer  has  the  right  ring,  Mr.  Horton.  You 
iay  your  mother  will  not  help  you  at  all." 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Well,  I  will.    You  want  work,  and  I  will  give  it. 


28  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

My  grandson  wishes  to  enter  Yale  next  autumn  and  has 
not  Greek  enough,  and  cannot  get  it  in  our  schools. 
The  dean  has  spoken  highly  of  you  as  a  Greek  scholar. 
You  shall  have  my  grandson  to  tutor  for  five  days  each 
week,  an  hour  a  day,  and  I  will  give  you  a  dollar  for 
every  lesson." 

Bradford  thanked  him  and  rose  to  go.  "  Don't  go 
yet,  Mr.  Horton.  I  have  another  thing  to  say.  Take 
no  offense  now.  You  need  ready  money  for  books  and 
other  things,  and  I  will  provide  it,  not  as  a  gift  but  as 
a  loan,  on  your  promissory  note.  You  must  pay  me  in- 
terest regularly  and  the  principal  within  a  year  of  your 
graduation.  In  this  way  you  can  maintain  your  self- 
respect." 

As  he  finished  speaking  the  banker  took  from  a 
drawer  five  ten-dollar  notes.  "  Take  these,  please,  Mr. 
Horton,  and  sign  this  note." 

Bradford  signed  and  took  the  money.  He  wanted 
to  refuse,  but  dared  not.  Something  about  this  gentle- 
man awed  even  his  independent  spirit.  Rising  quickly, 
he  said,  "  Good-night." 

Passing  out  of  the  office  he  saw  in  the  library,  read- 
ing, the  girl  with  the  beautiful  eyes.  She  saw  him 
also,  and  looked  surprised. 

"  Antigone,"  he  thought,  "  and  her  present-day  name 
is  Elmore." 


Ill 

TO  AN  OLD-TIME  SWEETHEART 

"  T~~*>ATHER,  who  was  that  ?  " 

r^        "  One  of  my  annuals,  dear." 

JL  Mr.  Elmore  had  followed  his  caller  to  the 

hall  and,  returning,  had  stopped  behind  his  daughter's 
chair.  She  was  reading  "  Sartor  Resartus."  "  How 
do  you  and  Thomas  come  on,  Lennie  ?  " 

"  Finely.     What  was  his  name,  father  ?  " 

"  Teufelsdrockh.  I  should  not  think  you  would  ask 
with  the  book  in  your  hand." 

"  Oh,  bother  Teufelsdrockh  !  I  wasn't  asking  about 
him,  and  you  know  it.  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

She  had  drawn  her  father  down  to  the  arm  of  her 
chair,  where  he  sat  looking  with  mingled  love  and  ad- 
miration at  her  strength  and  beauty.  Instead  of  an- 
swering her  question,  he  began,  "  '  A  rose  by  any ' " 

"  Stop,  daddy  ;  men  are  not  roses.  What  is  the  an- 
nual's name  ?  " 

"  You  haven't  usually  asked  their  names." 

"  No.  Usually  they're  stupid — this  one's  handsome. 
That's  why." 

"Handsome,  is  he?  You  saw  it  at  a  glance,  it 
seems,  but  I  didn't  notice  it,  though  he  sat  with  me  a 
half  hour." 

"  Oh,  you're  a  man ;  and  besides,  I've  seen  him  twice 
before." 

"  You  have  ?    Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

29 


30  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  Haven't  met  him.  I've  seen  him.  Look  here,  fa- 
ther !  Do  you  suppose  a  man  like  him  can  come  into 
sleepy  old  Prestonbury  and  be  here  three  days  without 
every  girl  in  town  knowing  it  ?  " 

"  When  did  you  see  him,  Eleanor  ?  " 

"  Day  before  yesterday.  Alice  Lee  and  I  were  stand- 
ing by  her  house  and  he  passed.  And  he's  good-look- 
ing, daddy.  Alice  says  so,  and  she  knows.  Then  yes- 
terday I  saw  him  come  out  of  our  bank.  What's  his 
name,  father  ?  " 

"Well,  dear,  it's  Horton;  Bradford  Horton.  But 
this  won't  do  for  me.  I  must  go  to  work." 

He  rose  to  go  back  to  his  office.  "  Wait,  father !  " 
She  caught  his  arm  as  she  spoke.  "  Is  he  poor  ?  " 

"  I  rather  think  he  is,"  answered  the  man. 

"  What  made  you  keep  him  in  your  office  so  long  ? 
Did  he  tell  you  his  history  ?  " 

"  Part  of  it.  But  never  mind  him,  Lennie.  I  don't 
want  you  thinking  about  men  until  after  our  foreign 
trip.  Good-bye.  I'm  off." 

"  Men  are  funny,"  she  laughed.  "  What  made  father 
bother  so  about  his  name  ?  " 

She  took  up  her  book  once  more,  but  did  not  read 
long,  for  the  butler  brought  the  cards  of  two  callers, 
Joseph  Jickers  and  B.  Oren-Toole.  "Take  these  to 
Mrs.  Elmore,"  she  said  to  the  butler,  as  she  started  for 
the  parlour. 

Mrs.  Elmore  came  presently,  and  taking  the  chair 
that  her  daughter  had  vacated,  apparently  occupied  her- 
self with  the  book  lying  on  the  table,  while  really  she 
listened  to  the  talk  in  the  parlour,  of  which  there  was 
never  a  lack  where  Joe  Jickers  was.  The  parlour  soon 
became  very  noisy,  and  Mrs.  Elmore  did  not  know 
whether  she  was  displeased  or  not. 


TO  AN  OLD-TIME  SWEETHEART          31 

"  How  long  before  the  cell  door  will  open  to  receive 
the  Prestonbury  culprit?"  she  heard  Joe  ask.  Then 
came  Oren-Toole's  voice :  "  Now,  J.  J.,  what's  the  cell 
door,  and  who's  the  Prestonbury  culprit  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  the  culprit,"  answered  the  girl,  "  and  the 
cell  is  my  room  in  college.  You  know  I  go  back  to 
Vassar  in  ten  days." 

"  "Will  that  heaven  be  full  of  angels  this  autumn, 
your  honour — I  mean  your  honouress  ?  I  want  to 
know,  for  I  want  one  angel,  just  one  little  one.  I  don't 
want  to  be  an  angel,  but  I  want  to  own  one  with  pink 
ears  and  ruby  lips  and  eyes  like  a  gazelle's,  and  hair  the 
colour  of  the  raven's  wing.  Eh,  Lennie?  Any  such 
down  there  ?  " 

In  such  fashion  the  stream  of  nonsense  flowed,  and 
in  the  midst  of  it  Oren-Toole  went  to  the  piano  and  be- 
gan to  sing.  Suddenly  he  whirled  on  the  piano  stool 
and  called  abruptly  :  "  J.  J.,  I  owe  you  one  ;  yes,  I  owe 
you  more  than  one.  You  put  me  in  a  hole  yesterday." 

"Not  guilty,  your  honour." 

"  You  did.  You  brought  Nancy  boy  into  the  bank, 
and  he  took  the  job  of  indexing." 

"  What  of  it  ?    How  did  that  hurt  you  ?  " 

"  How  ?  I  told  Maxwell  not  an  hour  before  I  would 
do  it  in  overtime  for  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dol- 
lars. You  brought  Nancy  boy  in,  and  after  looking  at 
the  work  what  do  you  think  he  offered  ?  Just  twenty- 
five  !  It  made  me  look  like  a  robber.  Maxwell 
snapped  him  up  as  a  frog  does  a  fly.  Put  me  in  a  fine 
light.  Maxwell  thinks,  I  suppose,  I  was  trying  to  play 
him  for  a  flat." 

"  Court  sustains  the  opinion,"  said  the  druggist. 

"  J.  J.,  I'll  put  a  rod  in  pickle  for  Nancy  boy,  and 
don't  you  forget  it." 


32  BEADFOED  HOETON :  MAN 

"  You  make  me  curious,"  said  Eleanor.  "  Who  is 
Nancy  boy  ?  And  I'm  disappointed  in  you,  Mr.  Oren- 
Toole.  I  never  supposed  you  had  a  bad  temper." 

"  Nor  have  I,  Miss  Elmore.  My  temper  is  good — so 
good  it  will  get  even  with  a  man  I  don't  like." 

"  Is  there  some  one  you  do  not  like,  and  you  call  him 
Nancy  boy  ?  That's  a  funny  name  for  a  man." 

"  You  have  it  right.  I  do  not  like  Nancy  boy.  He's 
a  new  student.  Ask  J.  J.  about  a  lamp  he  sold  him. 
But  I'll  do  him  worse  than  J.  J.  did." 

Joe  saw  it  was  time  to  stop  this  talk,  and  did  it  by 
telling  the  lamp  story  in  full,  giving  both  first  and  sec- 
ond acts,  but  omitting  Horton's  name.  Eleanor  noticed 
the  omission. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  men  ? "  she  asked. 
"  Why  don't  you  tell  me  the  name  of  this  disturber  of 
Mr.  Oren-Toole's  peace  ?  Don't  you  mean  to  tell  me  ?  " 

Both  men  answered,  "  Bradford  Horton." 

"  Is  he  the  man  I  saw  leaving  the  bank  yesterday 
morning  ?  "  she  asked  the  teller. 

"  Miss  Elmore,  a  good  many  men  left  the  bank  yes- 
terday morning,  and  which  one  you  saw  I  don't  know. 
But  if  he  was  tall  and  empty-handed  and  acting  as  if  he 
thought  he  was  the  best  looking  man  in  Prestonbury, 
then  I  reckon  your  man's  my  Nancy  boy." 

"  He's  the  fellow,  Lennie,"  broke  in  Joe.  "  New  type 
of  fellow.  O.-T.  there  don't  like  him,  but  the  new  type 
doesn't  know  it,  and  if  he  did  he  wouldn't  care.  Inde- 
pendent ?  I  should  say.  And  brains  ?  He'll  stir  that 
old  seminary  up  before  three  years  pass.  Don't  fool 
yourself,  O.-T.  Bradford  Horton's  no  Nancy  boy." 

At  this  juncture  Mrs.  Elmore  came  into  the  parlour. 
"  Eleanor,"  she  began,  "  was  not  that  the  man  who 
came  to  see  your  father  to-night  ?  " 


TO  AX  OLD-TIME  SWEETHEABT         83 

"Was  there  a  man  here,  mother?  Come  to  think 
of  it,  I  believe  there  was.  Did  you  see  him,  mother  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  am  sure  that  is  the  name  of  the  man 
your  father  expected.  If  it  is,  he  made  a  great  sensa- 
tion yesterday." 

"  That's  the  man,  Mrs.  Elmore.  Dr.  John  Jickers — 
1827,  you  ^know — says  he  did  stir  things  up  in  great 
shape." 

Oren-Toole  tried  to  begin  another  of  his  bitter  com- 
ments on  Horton,  but  the  druggist  prevented.  "  Can't 
talk  any  more  to-night,  Ory.  Court  must  adjourn," 
and  rising,  he  bade  Mrs.  Elmore  good-night,  and  turn- 
ing swiftly  to  Eleanor  added,  "Good-night,  angel 
catcher." 

"  Shall  I  see  you  again  before  I  go  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  You  may,  your  honour,  and  you  may  not.  If  not, 
give  the  angels  in  that  little  Yassar  heaven  a  message 
from  a  citizen  of  this  wicked  world.  Tell  them  an  ach- 
ing heart  by  early  friendship  scorned  awaits  the  heal- 
ing balm " 

"  Joe,  you're  absurd !  Do  you  mean  that  I  scorn 
you  ?  Never !  It  is  you  who  have  scorned  me.  If  I 
die  of  a  broken  heart  you'll  know  who's  to  blame. 
Like  enough  then  you'll  weep." 

"  Oh,  I'll  weep  now,  madonna,  I'll  weep  now,"  and 
producing  a  red  silk  bandanna  he  began  to  mop  his 
face.  As  he  passed  out  of  the  door  into  the  night, 
waving  the  handkerchief,  he  called  : 

"  An  aching  heart  by  early  friendship  scorned 
Waits  for  angelic  beauty,  unadorned." 

The  echo  that  floated  in  past  the  closing  door  was 
Joseph  Jickers's  laugh.  As  the  girl  turned  away  with 


34:  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

her  smile  at  Joe  still  playing  over  her  beautiful  face 
her  mother  shook  her  head  reprovingly.  "  Will  you 
never  be  serious  with  callers,  Eleanor  ?  "  she  said. 

"  How  can  any  one  be  serious  with  Joe,  momsy  ?  If 
he  should  take  himself  seriously  for  five  minutes  he'd 
have  an  ague  chill.  If  the  other  man  had  been  here 
alone,  and  had  talked  about  Mr.  Horton  as  he  did,  I 
would  have  been  serious  enough  to  make  his  red  hair 
white." 

"That  troubles  me,  too,  Eleanor — that  Oren-Toole. 
He  comes  here  too  often.  He  has  been  here  five  times 
during  your  vacation." 

"  That  isn't  often.  Don't  worry,  momsy.  He's  good 
fun,  but  if  the  world  was  full  of  Oren-Tooles  I  wouldn't 
look  a  second  time  at  one  of  them.  Not  much  fun  in 
him  to-night,  though.  He  has  taken  an  absurd  dislike 
to  that  Mr.  Horton,  and  it  made  him  grumpy." 

"  But,  Eleanor,  why  can't  you  settle  down  and  be  se- 
rious with  Mr.  Jickers  ?  He  has  family,  good  business, 
wealth,  manners,  and  we  know  all  about  him.  Why 
won't  you  marry  Joe,  Eleanor  ?  " 

Eleanor  laughed  as  she  answered.  "  Oh,  momsy, 
you're  funny,  indeed  you  are  !  I  marry  Joe  ?  How 
can  I  till  he  asks  me  ?  And  he'll  never  do  that.  If  he 
should  " — and  she  punctuated  the  sentence  with  a  ring- 
ing laugh — "  if  he  should,  he'd  have  me  founded  in 
1827,  or  pleading  guilty,  or  confessing  judgment,  or  he'd 
take  himself  away  by  habeas  corpus  whenever  he  left 
in  the  morning.  Joe's  jolly,  but  who  wants  to  marry  a 
walking  joke  ?  " 

Mr.  Elmore's  own  hearty  laugh  prevented  his  wife's 
reply.  He  had  come  from  his  office  unnoticed,  and  had 
heard  the  last  two  speeches.  "Why,  Emily,  Joe 
couldn't  be  serious  long  enough  to  propose  to  any  girl, 


TO  AN  OLD-TIME  SWEETHEART          85 

let  alone  marrying  her.  And  as  for  Lennie,  she  can't 
marry  until  we  return  from  Asia." 

The  little  family  party  broke  up  after  that.  The  fa- 
ther returned  to  his  office,  the  mother  went  up-stairs 
and  the  daughter  to  the  library  and  her  book.  But 
Carlyle  had  lost  his  charm  for  that  night.  She  threw 
down  the  book  and  started  for  her  own  room. 

"  He  is  good  looking,  anyway,"  she  said. 


On  Mr.  Elmore's  desk  lay  a  paper  on  which  he  had 
written  a  name  and  address  : 

"Mrs.  Rosalie  Horton,  Glencoe,  New  York. — Dear 
Rosalie :— " 

To  write  this  much  was  easy,  but  a  flood  of  memories 
rushing  over  him  had  stopped  the  pen.  He  was  a  boy 
once  more,  a  student  in  his  senior  year  at  college  in  a 
town  where  was  also  a  girls'  seminary.  On  Sunday 
mornings  the  girls  in  attendance  sat  in  one  gallery  of 
the  old  stone  church  and  the  students  from  the  college  in 
the  other.  So  it  happened  that  Dick  Elmore  and  Rosa- 
lie Morwell  faced  each  other  across  the  church  for  al- 
most the  whole  of  a  college  year,  and  each  had  selected 
the  other  as  the  best  looking  in  the  group  long  before 
they  met.  After  they  had  met,  Dick  called  on  Rosalie 
whenever  the  seminary  calling  night  came.  He  called 
again,  and  then  again,  and  before  the  college  year  was 
ended  they  were  engaged. 

It  was  a  halcyon  time  for  both,  but  it  passed  with  the 
year.  Rosalie  went  home  to  Glencoe,  Dick  to  Preston- 
bury  and  into  his  father's  law  office.  What  happened 
then?  No  one  can  answer.  The  psychology  of  a 
broken  first  engagement  is  better  left  unwritten.  Like 
a  fog  that  lifts,  like  a  dream  that  fades,  like  embers 


86  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

that  die,  the  little  romance  of  Dick  and  Rosalie  ended. 
He  forgot  it  presently  and  was  happy.  She  married 
Henry  Horton  and  became  the  social  leader  of  her  com- 
munity ;  but  there  was  a  little  nook  in  her  heart  where 
resentment  lived  on  through  the  long  years. 

Richard  Elmore  thought  of  this  past  as  he  sat  look- 
ing at  the  address  he  had  written.  A  good  impulse 
was  hi  his  heart,  for  he  wanted  to  bring  mother  and  son 
together.  He  saw  the  possibility ;  the  effort  was  worth 
making,  and  taking  up  his  pen  he  wrote  rapidly : 

"  Bradford  has  been  with  me  to-night  for  an  hour. 
What  a  handsome  fellow  he  is !  By  chance  only  I 
came  across  him.  I  help  two  or  three  of  our  worthy 
young  students  each  year,  and  having  heard  of  him  as 
one  specially  gifted,  I  sent  for  him,  not  knowing  he  was 
your  son.  I  learned  that  after  he  came,  and  he  does 
not  know  that  you  and  I  were  ever  acquainted. 

"  I  made  him  tell  his  story — a  sad  one,  too.  Rosalie, 
can  you  not  forgive  him  ?  We  drifted  apart  long  ago, 
you  and  I — I  never  knew  how.  May  I  not  come  back 
into  your  life  now  enough  to  bring  mother  and  son  to 
reconciliation  ?  Over  that  my  joy  would  be  great. 
Perhaps  what  I  saw  of  you  in  him  is  what  moves  me 
so,  for  I  confess  memory  has  stirred  me  deeply  to-night. 
Hoping  I  may  be  of  service,  real  service,  to  you  and 
your  boy,  I  am  yours  most  cordially, 

"RICHARD  P.  ELMORE." 

He  went  to  his  room,  hoping  that  his  wife  was  asleep. 
He  did  not  want  her  to  ask  what  he  had  been  doing. 
But  she  was  awake.  "  Richard,  what  have  you  been 
doing  ?  "  she  inquired. 

Reluctantly  he  answered,  "  Writing,  Emily.'* 

"Writing  what?" 

"  A  letter." 


TO  AN  OLD-TIME  SWEETHEART          3T 

"  It  must  have  been  long." 

"Not  very." 

There  was  silence  for  a  while.  He  hoped  she  had 
dropped  asleep.  Presently  he  heard  her  voice,  "  Rich- 
ard, is  that  all  you  have  to  say  about  that  letter  ?  " 

"  What  more  can  I  say,  Emily  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  Don't  you  know  to  whom  you 
wrote,  and  about  what  ?  " 

That  was  enough.  He  surrendered,  and  told  the 
whole  story. 

"  What  a  letter  ! "  she  ejaculated.  "  Come  back  into 
her  life !  She  doesn't  want  you  within  sight  of  her 
life." 

"  But,  Emily,  she'll  know  what  I  mean.  I  only  want 
to  bring  her  and  her  son  together." 

"  See  here,  Richard,  my  advice  to  you  is  not  to  send 
that  letter.  Give  it  to  me  in  the  morning ;  I'll  take 
care  of  it." 

"Can't  do  it,  Emily.  I  sent  Tom  to  the  post-box 
with  it  before  I  came  up." 

"  What  a  fool  you  can  be  sometimes,  Richard.  That 
woman  will  be  furious  when  she  reads  it.  Oh,  don't 
shake  your  head.  Don't  tell  me  I'm  hard.  I  know 
women.", 


IV 
A  CABNATION  FOB  A  SONG 

SATTJKDAY    NIGHT    Tom    Wilson,    basso    of 
Second  Church,  met  young  Jack  Tappan,  a  First 
Church  man.     "  Hello,  Jack !     Be  in  our  church 
to  hear  your  preacher  candidate  to-morrow  ?  " 

"You  bet.  He's  bang  up.  Father  heard  him  in 
Claremont." 

"  Well,  if  he  can  preach  as  well  as  the  fellow  can  sing 
who'll  be  our  tenor  to-morrow  he's  a  hummer." 

"  Who  is  the  tenor  ?  " 

"  New  student.     Fellow  named  Horton." 

This  sidelight  shows  why  Second  Church  was  full 
even  to  the  galleries  next  morning. 

In  the  front  row  of  the  gallery  sat  Oren-Toole. 
Surprise  and  scorn  were  on  his  face  as  he  saw  Horton 
enter  the  choir.  Maxwell,  equally  surprised,  whispered 
to  his  wife,  "  That's  the  man  I  hired  two  days  ago  to 
make  my  index.  Hope  he  can  sing  as  well  as  he  can 
write." 

The  Elmores  were  there,  and  Horton  saw  them  in- 
stantly. As  iron  flies  to  the  magnet  his  eyes  sought 
those  of  Eleanor  Elmore,  and  as  their  eyes  met  his  face 
flushed,  but  hers  did  not.  Her  only  thought  was,  "  So 
father's  new  annual  is  a  singer  ! " 

As  the  service  moved  forward  towards  the  time  for 
his  solo  Horton  grew  nervous,  but  it  was  only  the 
flickering  of  a  fire  that  was  sure  to  burst  into  a  brilliant 
flame. 

38 


A  CARNATION  FOR  A  SONG  39 

The  congregation  long  remembered  that  offertory. 
There  would  have  been  applause  had  it  not  been  the 
Sabbath,  but  the  solemn  silence  was  even  more  thrill- 
ing than  sound.  In  the  midst  of  the  song  the  organ 
stopped.  Sleighton,  absorbed  in  listening,  had  forgot- 
ten his  part.  Oren-Toole  noticed  it,  and  muttered, 
"  Part  of  the  show."  The  singer  paid  no  attention  to 
the  stopping  of  the  accompaniment,  but  with  full,  clear 
tones  sent  his  words  ringing  through  the  auditorium 
until  the  closing  phrase,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord." 

Eleanor  Elmore  was  surprised  and  deeply  affected  by 
the  song,  and  sat  motionless,  almost  breathless,  through 
it  all.  She  was  not  alone  in  her  feeling.  The  preacher 
was  even  more  moved  than  she.  His  action  was  al- 
most dramatic.  Beginning  his  sermon  with  a  prayer, 
he  passed  almost  imperceptibly  into  colloquial  address 
utterly  regardless  of  conventionalities. 

"  Good  friends,  I  know,  of  course,  why  I  am  here  to- 
day, what  your  expectations  are  and  what  I  had  pur- 
posed. I  shall  gratify  neither  you  nor  myself.  I  care 
nothing  for  the  outcome  to  myself  of  this  day.  The 
singer  has  given  me  my  message." 

Fifteen  minutes  sufficed  him.  Prestonbury  never  be- 
fore had  heard  so  short  a  morning  sermon.  People  re- 
mained standing  in  devotional  attitude  after  the  bene- 
diction, apparently  loath  to  leave  the  church.  The 
organ  broke  the  spell.  One  and  another  went  forward 
to  speak  to  the  preacher,  but  the  majority  passed  quietly 
out  of  the  building. 

Among  the  latter  were  Mr.  Elmore  and  Mr.  Maxwell. 
On  the  steps  outside  the  latter  paused.  "  I  shall  wait 
for  the  ladies,"  he  said. 

"  That's  the  index  man,  isn't  it,  Sam  ?  That  singer, 
I  mean." 


40  BRADFORD  EORTON  :  MAN 

«  Yes." 

"  You  said  twenty-five,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes." 

«  Give  him  fifty." 

"  All  right." 

"We've  got  to  call  that  preacher,  Sam." 

"  I  guess  so." 

"  Got  to  hire  the  tenor,  too.  Our  teller  has  applied 
for  the  place,  but  he  won't  do.  Good-bye." 

Presently  the  ladies  came,  and  with  them  Oren- 
Toole,  who  was  in  a  tumultuous  mood.  He  had  con- 
sidered himself  something  of  a  singer  until  this  morn- 
ing, and  Horton's  ability,  which  he  instantly  recognized, 
made  him  angrier  than  he  had  been  over  the  index  mat- 
ter. He  knew  his  dream  of  being  engaged  for  the 
vacancy  at  the  "  Old  Furnace  "  had  vanished  into  thin 
air.  But  though  angry,  he  was  outwardly  calm.  He 
took  his  place  by  Eleanor's  side,  and  they  all  walked  on 
together.  They  went  a  dozen  rods  without  speaking, 
then  Eleanor  broke  the  silence  : 

"  I  see  you  have  been  moved,  too,  Mr.  Oren-Toole." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Elmore.     I  have  been  moved." 

"  I  do  not  wonder."  She  turned  her  lovely  face 
towards  him,  eager,  expectant.  "  It  was  wonderful" 

"  It  ?    Don't  you  mean  '  they '  ?  " 

"  They  ?    Who  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  singer  and  the  preacher.  Did  you  not 
see  how  they  played  together  to  the  galleries  ?  n 

She  turned  to  him  quickly  in  indignant  astonishment. 
"  How  can  you ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Those  men  play  to 
the  galleries  ?  No  !  They  made  me  feel  as  if  the  door 
into  the  presence  of  God  had  been  opened  before  my 
face." 

"  Stage  pky — nothing  but  stage  play,  Miss  Elmor«." 


A  CARNATION  FOR  A  SONG  41 

"  I  thought  you  liked  music,  Mr.  Oren-Toole." 

"  So  I  do,  Miss  Elmore.     I  love  music." 

"  Well,  that  was  music,  real  music,  such  as  one  rarely 
hears." 

"  The  singer  has  an  eloquent  champion,  Miss  Elmore. 
But  did  you  not  feel  the  pure  sensationalism  of  the  per- 
formance ?  " 

"  Performance  ?  That  was  no  performance.  It  was 
the  throb  of  a  human  heart.  It  pulsed  and  thrilled  with 
life." 

"  All  done  for  effect,  Miss  Elmore.  Every  note  and 
tone  and  modulation  was  measured.  He  has  probably 
done  it  elsewhere  for  the  same  reason." 

"  What  reason,  Mr.  Oren-Toole  ?  "  Eleanor  looked 
him  full  in  the  face.  The  fire  flashing  in  her  eyes 
should  have  warned  him,  but  he  blundered  jealously  on. 

"  A  bid  for  a  choir  job.  Just  like  an  auctioneer  call- 
ing '  How  much  am  I  offered  ? ' ' 

"  For  shame !  "  cried  Eleanor  hotly.  "  For  shame, 
Mr.  Oren-Toole  !  I  remember  what  you  said  the  other 
night  at  our  house  about  disliking  Mr.  Horton,  but  I 
did  not  know  you  could  be  so  mean."  And  with  a  sud- 
den step  forward  she  joined  Mrs.  Maxwell,  leaving  him 
to  follow  by  himself. 

Rage  though  he  might  inwardly,  he  could  not  show  it. 
Eleanor's  move  had  been  made  so  quickly  and  emphat- 
ically that  he  could  not  explain.  He  walked  on  a  little 
way,  but  after  a  short  distance  turned  towards  his  hotel, 
a  very  angry  man. 


The  preacher  turned  to  the  choir  loft  to  speak  with 
the  singer  after  the  benediction,  but  he  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen.  He  had  hurried  to  a  side  entrance  to  avoid 


42  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

meeting  people,  and  would  have  gone  away  alone  if 
Joseph  Jickers  had  not  anticipated  Horton's  action  and 
waited  at  the  side  door. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  dinner,"  he  said,  and 
slipping  his  arm  into  Horton's  he  led  him  away.  When 
they  reached  the  Jickers  home  Joe  took  his  guest  to  his 
own  room.  "  You'll  not  be  disturbed,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
call  you  for  dinner."' 

Horton,  weary  with  the  strain,  threw  himself  on  the 
bed  and  fell  asleep.  The  next  thing  he  was  conscious 
of  was  that  some  one  was  shaking  him.  "  Let  me  alone, 
Sleighton,"  he  grumbled  sleepily ;  "  I'm  tired." 

"  Mistaken  identity,  petitioner.  Court  is  not  Sleigh- 
ton.  You've  been  asleep  an  hour,  and  it's  bread  and 
water  time.  Wake  up!  You  sleep  like  one  of  the 
ancient  seven." 

As  Bradford  made  ready  for  dinner  the  little  man 
talked.  "  You're  going  to  meet  my  father,  my  mother, 
my  sister,  Miss  Lucy  Jickers,  and  my  brother,  Ansley 
Jickers,  esquire.  That's  the  family.  And,  petitioner, 
they've  brought  home  the  minister.  Can  you  stand  it, 
or  shall  I  have  your  dinner  sent  up  ?  " 

Bradford  laughed.  "  I  can  stand  it.  I  am  ready." 
And  they  went  down-stairs  to  join  the  family. 

Ansley  Jickers  saw  at  first  glance  that  the  singer 
was  wearing  the  emblem  of  his  own  college  fraternity. 
A  bright,  pleased  look  passed  over  the  face  of  the 
lawyer  as  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  Horton,  and  his 
hearty  grip  told  the  young  man  that  there  was  a 
strong  bond  between  them.  He  was  sure  of  one  loyal 
friend  now. 


When  Bradford  entered  the  east  corridor  of  Morton 


A  CARNATION  FOR  A  SONG  43 

Hall  late  that  afternoon  the  sound  of  Sleighton's  organ 
made  him  stop.  As  he  opened  the  door  Sleighton 
jumped  from  his  chair  and  grasped  him  by  the  shoulders. 
"  Oh,  it  was  great,"  he  cried — "  great !  But  where  did 
you  go  ?  You  shouldn't  run  away  so." 

"  Sleighton,  can  you  play  '  Robin  Adair '  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  I  tell 
you,  man " 

"  Play  it,  will  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  in  a  minute.  What's  the  rush?  Don't  you 
care  what  folks  said  about  your  song  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  care.  I'm  pleased  as  I  can  be.  But  I 
couldn't  face  the  crowd.  Young  Jickers  found  me  as  I 
was  making  off  and  took  me  home  with  him.  He  has 
a  mighty  fine  sister,  Sleighton.  And  say  !  his  father 
went  to  school  with  my  father.  The  minister  was 
there,  too,  and  wants  me  to  sing  '  Nearer,  my  God,  to 
Thee '  to  « Robin  Adair '  to-night." 

A  white  carnation  lay  on  Horton's  hymn-book  that 
night ;  no  note,  no  explanation,  just  the  flower.  He 
thought  Lucy  Jickers  had  sent  it,  and  placed  it  in  his 
buttonhole.  He  sang  with  the  same  power  as  in  the 
morning,  with  the  result  that  before  the  week's  end  he 
was  engaged  to  sing  for  Second  Church  for  the  months 
of  the  seminary  year  for  three  hundred  dollars.  The 
young  man's  financial  prospects  were  brightening. 


On  Tuesday  following  this  eventful  Sunday  cards 
were  issued  by  Miss  Elmore  for  a  musicale  on  Friday 
evening,  and  Horton  was  honoured.  The  invitation  was 
received  on  Tuesday  afternoon  just  after  recitations  for 
the  day  were  over.  He  sat  in  the  old  chair,  with  his 
feet  on  the  table,  and  thought  of  the  events  of  the 


44  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

week.  "  Lucky  ?  That's  what  you  are."  So  his 
thought  ran.  "  You  landed  in  this  town  a  week  ago 
to-morrow,  no  home,  no  friends,  no  prospects.  The 
first  man  to  whom  you  spoke  gave  you  a  plum ;  the 
next  put  a  whole  basketful  into  your  hands ;  the  banker 
added  to  the  pile,  and  one  Sunday  in  church  brought 
three  hundred  dollars  for  eight  months'  work.  Yes,  and 
there's  the  boy  you're  tutoring.  As  for  friends,  why, 
every  man  you've  met  has  spoken  as  if  he'd  known  you 
always,  except  that  Toole  in  the  bank.  "What's  the 
matter  with  him,  anyway  ?  But  this  invitation  from 
the  banker's  daughter  ?  No,  no,  my  lady  !  You  can't 
play  me  like  a  trout.  I'll  take  all  the  work  that  will 
bring  me  money,  but  I'll  run  no  chance  of  throwing 
my  good  resolutions  to  the  winds  by  running  after 
girls." 

His  meditation  was  broken  by  Sleighton,  who,  throw- 
ing open  the  door,  rushed  into  the  room  fairly  shout- 
ing, his  card  for  the  musicale  in  his  hand. 

"  Horton  !  Oh,  say,  Horton  !  That  song  of  yours  has 
done  the  business.  Look  here  !  Card  for  a  musicale. 
Miss  Elmore's,  you  know.  It's  immense,  Horton.  It's — 
say !  it's  the  swellest  place,  and  she's  the  prettiest  girl 
in  this  city.  What'll  you  sing,  Horton  ?  " 

"  Nothing.     I'm  not  going." 

"  Not  invited  ?  " 

"  Yes.     But  I'm  not  going." 

The  answer  astonished  the  enthusiastic  organist. 
He  looked  at  his  friend  in  dumb  amazement  for  a 

moment.  "  Not  going  ?  "Why,  man,  you Not 

going  ?  But  you  can't,  don't  you  know  ?  You  can't, 
don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Can't  what,  A.  S.  ?  "    Horton  was  laughing. 

"Can't  stay  away.     Can't   send  regrets.      It  will 


A  CARNATION  FOR  A  SONG  45 

never  do,  Horton.  You  are  a  stranger,  going  to  be 
here  three  years,  going  to  sing  in  the  '  Old  Furnace,' 
going  to  be  part  of  the  life  of  the  town.  Don't  you 
see?  Mr.  Elraore  about  owns  this  town,  and  that 
party  is  his  daughter's  party." 

"  That's  all  right,  A.  S.  But  he  doesn't  own  me,  and 
his  daughter  doesn't,  and  I'll  not  go  to  the  party." 

"  Why,  you're  crazy,  Brad !    Don't  be  a  mule." 

"  All  right,  A.  S.  I  won't  be  a  mule,  and  I  won't  be 
a  fool,  either.  That's  what  I  will  be  if  I  accept  this 
invitation." 

Sleighton  argued,  but  Horton  was  firm.  "  I  tell 
you,  Austin  Sleighton,  I  won't  go.  I  came  here  to 
study  for  the  ministry,  not  to  study  girls.  I've  studied 
them  too  much  already,  but  I've  learned  my  limitations 
by  the  study.  That  girl  is  Antigone.  She  made  men 
lose  their  heads  twenty-five  centuries  ago,  and  she 
almost  made  me  lose  mine  last  Sunday  morning.  I'll 
not  give  her  another  chance.  I'll  not  go  to  her  party. 
You  can  take  my  regrets,  but  you  can't  take  me." 


SETTING  A  SNAEE 

O  My  Lady  has  come  to  her  senses,"  was  Oren- 
Toole's  comment  on  receiving  Miss  Elmore's 
card,  and  his  tone  showed  that  his  pleasure  was 
unmistakable.  Sunday  night  he  had  met  her  face  to 
face  in  the  vestibule  of  the  church,  and  although  she 
bowed,  her  manner  was  frigid.  Sunday's  blunder  gave 
him  a  rather  blue  Monday,  but  Tuesday  brought  the 
invitation,  and  a  broad,  warm  smile  lit  up  his  face. 
She  was  not  hopelessly  offended. 

During  the  following  day  he  paid  little  attention  to 
Horton,  but  on  Thursday,  when  Bradford  reached  the 
bank,  curiosity  to  know  whether  the  student  was  also 
to  be  one  of  the  Elmore  guests  made  him  speak. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  at  Miss  Elmore's  musicale," 
he  said  tentatively. 

"Is  Miss  Elmore  to  have  a  musicale?"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Yes.  Didn't  you  know  it  ?  I  suppose  then  you 
will  not  be  there." 

"  You  seem  to  suppose  that  I  will  and  that  I  will  not 
almost  in  the  same  breath.  Why  should  you  suppose 
anything  about  me  ?  " 

"  I  supposed  you  would  be  invited  because  you  are  a 
singer.  I  suppose  you'll  not  be  there  because  you  are 
not  invited." 

"  Who  told  you  I  was  not  invited  ?  " 

"  You." 

46 


SETTING  A  SNARE  47 

"  Did  I  ?    When  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  say  you  didn't  know  Misa  Elmore  was 
to  have  a  musicale  ?  " 

«  No." 

"You  didn't?" 

"  No." 

"  Wasn't  that  your  meaning  when  you  asked, '  Is  Miss 
Elmore  to  have  a  musicale  ? ' ' 

"No." 

"  What  did  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  See  here  !    Are  you  an  idiot  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.     We  are  not  relatives." 

The  teller  flushed  angrily,  but  he  changed  his  tone. 
With  sarcastic  self-control  he  asked,  "  Have  you  been 
invited  to  Miss  Elmore's  musicale,  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have.  Had  you  asked  that  question  first  you 
wouldn't  have  lost  your  temper." 

That  was  too  much  for  Oren-Toole.  He  turned  from 
Horton  to  his  own  work,  angry  to  the  crown  of  his  red 
head.  Horton,  writing  steadily,  was  asking  himself, 
"  Who  is  this  Oren-Toole  ?  What  has  he  against  me  ?  " 
Later  he  learned  the  story  of  the  man's  birth,  ambitions, 
and  disappointments  and  the  causes  of  his  hatred. 

Oren-Toole  was  an  Irishman  who  had  been  born  at 
Devil's  Spring,  only  a  few  miles  from  Prestonbury. 
His  father's  name  was  Dennis  O'Toole,  and  Bridget  was 
his  mother.  The  Prestonbury  priest  had  christened  him 
Barney.  The  boy's  home  was  a  shanty,  and  his  father 
a  common  labourer,  who  worked  with  his  paddy  shovel 
whenever  a  man  with  such  an  implement  was  in  demand. 
Bridget,  at  home,  worked  barefoot  by  day  and  smoked 
her  pipe  with  Dennis  at  night. 

Barney  was  the  oldest  of  the  children,  and  was  easily 


4:8  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

boss  and  tyrant  over  all.  None  of  the  little  OTooles 
save  Barney  showed  any  ambition  to  be  more  than  were 
the  father  and  mother.  But  Barney  was  different. 
"  Do  ye's  kids  think  it's  stayin'  here  I'd  be  allus  ?  I'll 
be  red-headed  and  an  Irishman  allus,  but  I'll  not  wurruk 
wid  a  shovel.  I'm  goin'  into  business,  an'  I'm  goin'  ter 
have  money." 

Devil's  Spring  could  not  keep  him  after  he  was  twelve. 
He  announced  to  his  father  one  day,  "  I'm  goin'." 
Bridget  cried  more  than  Barney  liked,  but  without  avail. 
His  father  accepted  it  like  a  philosopher.  "  Goin'  ye  are, 
Barney  ?  Well,  me  b'y,  be  lavin'  the  dhrink  alone. 
Ye'll  niver  f  oind  yer  way  till  the  top  o'  the  war!'  through 
a  whusky  bottle."  And  Barney  heeded.  Drinking  was 
never  one  of  his  faults. 

Behold,  now,  this  twelve-year-old  Barney  O'Toole 
early  one  autumn  morning  trudging  to  Claremont,  thirty 
miles  away.  A  sturdy  heart  was  beating  under  the  lit- 
tle Irishman's  shabby  exterior,  and  his  resolution  to 
succeed  was  strong.  He  had  slept  his  last  sleep  in  the 
shanty  at  Devil's  Spring. 

At  Claremont  he  found  work  in  a  newspaper  office. 
"  From  Devil's  Spring  you  come,  eh  ?  Well,  we'll 
make  a  '  printer's  devil '  of  you,"  said  the  manager. 
But  Barney  was  too  ambitious  to  be  "  printer's  devil  " 
long.  In  two  months  he  was  in  a  real  estate  office  ;  in 
three  years  in  the  First  National  Bank.  He  was  then 
past  fifteen,  and  the  evolution  had  begun  which  was  to 
produce  Mr.  Bernard  Oren-Toole,  descendant  of  the  Oren- 
Tooles,  who  had  been  chief  patrons  of  St.  Patrick  of 
blessed  memory.  The  process  was  not  rapid,  but  tact- 
ful from  the  beginning.  By  the  time  the  Preston 
National  Bank  chose  him  its  teller  his  new  name  was 
well  established.  Occasionally  Claremont  people  with 


SETTING  A  SNARE  49 

good  memories  would  laugh  and  say, "  Mr.  Oren-Toole  ? 
Oh,  yes  !  That's  little  Irish  Barney,  who  used  to  run 
errands  for  The  Standard"  But  no  one  objected  to  the 
ambition  which  had  enabled  him  to  climb  from  Irish 
errand  boy  to  popular  young  man  about  town. 

When  he  went  to  Prestonbury  he  was  received  for 
what  he'claimed  to  be,  and  only  one  person  in  the  city 
knew  the  truth.  That  was  Ansley  Jickers.  Claremont 
was  a  large  city  and  had  afforded  Barney  many  oppor- 
tunities. He  had  embraced  them  all,  and  had  acquired 
a  good  degree  of  culture.  He  could  sing,  tell  a  story 
well  and  play  the  piano.  He  had  a  keen  sense  of 
humour  and  much  social  grace.  Roman  Catholic  by 
birth,  religion  was  but  a  secondary  matter  with  him, 
and  Mr.  B.  Oren-Toole,  in  spite  of  his  ancestral  rela- 
tions to  St.  Patrick,  speedily  became  Protestant  by 
adoption,  and  at  the  time  Bradford  Horton  met  him  he 
was  a  regular  attendant  at  the  "  Old  Furnace."  As 
teller  of  the  Preston  National  Bank  he  was  efficient, 
and  in  society  generally  popular. 


"  Friend,  give  me  a  dime ;  I'm  hungry." 
"  Not  a  dime.     You're  not  my  friend,  and  you're  not 
hungry.     You're  thirsty." 

The  beggar  was  standing  near  the  bank  when  Oren- 
Toole  went  out  for  dinner  on  Friday,  the  day  of  Miss 
Elmore's  musicale.  He  was  old,  shabbily  dressed  and 
unattractive,  but  the  tone  of  his  voice  and  his  language 
betokened  one  of  higher  grade  than  the  ordinary  tramp. 
Something  about  him  touched  the  sympathy  of  the 
teller,  in  spite  of  his  rough  speech,  and  he  listened  to  the 
old  man's  response : 


50  BEADFOED  HOETON :  MAN 

"  You're  wrong,  rny  dear  sir.  I  am  hungry.  "Were 
you  never  hungry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  poor  devil.  I've  been  hungry,  and  it's  not 
nice.  Come  !  I'll  give  you  a  square  meal,  but  it'll  be 
where  you  can't  get  a  drink." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  restaurant,  and  entering  said, 
"  Sylvester,  give  this  man  his  dinner ;  I'll  pay  for  it." 
Turning  to  the  old  man  he  added,  "  You  wait  here  un- 
til I  come  back.  I'll  have  a  job  for  you." 

Oren-Toole  had  thought  rapidly  during  the  walk  to 
the  restaurant,  and  a  plan  for  satisfying  his  wrath  at 
Horton  had  suddenly  presented  itself.  To  make  it  ef- 
fective he  would  need  help,  and  this  old  beggar  now 
under  obligation  to  him  seemed  exactly  the  one  needed. 
When,  after  his  own  dinner,  he  had  the  beggar  in  the 
street  once  more,  he  began  :  "  See  here,  my  man !  Do 
you  want  to  earn  ten  dollars  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  do  ?  Listen !  This  is  the  corner  of  State 
Street  and  Stanton  Avenue.  Can  you  remember  that  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Will  you  come  here  at  eight  o'clock  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Eemember ;  be  here  at  eight  o'clock  and  I'll  give  you 
a  ten-dollar  job.  Get  out,  now.  Don't  let  the  police 
see  you  hanging  around  this  bank." 

With  that  the  teller  went  inside.  Horton's  bank 
hours  were  from  12 : 30  to  3 : 30.  His  desk  was  next  to 
the  teller's  counter,  with  only  a  glass  partition  between. 
In  the  intervals  of  the  afternoon  Oren-Toole,  with  some 
ostentation,  made  up  a  package  containing  two  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  Horton  saw  the  whole  proceeding,  as 
the  teller  intended. 

About  two  o'clock  Mr.  Elmore  came  in  and  took 


SETTING  A  SNARE  51 

Maxwell  to  drive.  Besides  Oren-Toole,  the  other  men 
of  the  bank  force  were  Hobbs,  the  bookkeeper,  and  a 
boy  called  Billy.  At  a  quarter  before  three  the  teller 
said  to  Horton,  "  Do  you  know  anything  about  book- 
keeping, bank  balances,  and  all  that  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  close  the  books  for  Hobbs 
to-day  ?  There's  to  be  a  mighty  good  ball  game  this 
afternoon,  and  he  and  Billy  want  to  go." 

Pleased  and  surprised  at  the  teller's  request,  Brad- 
ford consented,  and  the  two  clerks  started  away.  At 
three  o'clock  Oren-Toole  shut  the  bank  doors  and,  say- 
ing he  had  an  errand  that  would  keep  him  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  went  out. 

"I'll  come  back  in  time  to  look  after  things,"  he 
said. 

Outside  he  found  the  old  man  leaning  against  the 
corner  of  the  building. 

"  You  here ! "  he  broke  out.  "  I  told  you  to-night  at 
eight.  Clear  out.  Don't  let  any  one  in  the  bank  see 
you  here.  If  you  do  you'll  lose  that  ten  dollars.  Move 
now."  The  old  'man  obeyed. 

Oren-Toole  did  not  return  until  half -past  three,  and 
met  Horton  just  passing  out. 

"  I  waited,  Mr.  Oren-Toole,  as  long  as  I  could,"  said 
Horton.  "  I  have  to  be  at  class  promptly  at  four  to- 
day because  of  a  special  appointment." 

"  That's  all  right,"  was  the  reply.  "  I'll  look  after 
things." 

His  method  of  looking  after  things  was  interesting. 
First  from  old  newspapers  he  cut  pieces  the  size  of 
bank  bills,  enough  to  make  a  bundle  as  large  as  the 
package  of  money  on  the  counter.  This  he  marked 
"  Preston  Plow  Company "  and  put  into  the  safe. 


62  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

Next  he  pocketed  the  package  containing  the  money, 
locked  the  safe  and  left  the  bank.  "I'm  dead  sure 
to  make  it  go,"  he  said  as  he  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

Although  he  was  somewhat  nervous  through  the  rest 
of  the  day,  and  kept  calling  himself  a  fool  for  taking 
such  a  risk,  he  did  not  think  of  abandoning  his  purpose. 
He  dressed  with  scrupulous  care  and  went  out  for  the 
evening.  The  old  man  came  promptly  to  the  rendez- 
vous. 

"  Well,  you're  here,  all  right,"  said  the  teller. 
"  Now  listen !  There's  a  girl  in  this  town  who  is  dead 
gone  on  a  young  fellow  in  the  seminary,  and  she  wants 
to  make  him  a  present  without  his  knowing.  She 
wants  it  to  be  hid  in  his  room.  It'll  be  a  surprise 
when  he  finds  it.  She  asked  me  to  help  her,  and  I 
told  her  I  would.  Here  is  the  present." 

He  pulled  the  package  from  his  pocket.  "  They're 
handkerchiefs,  I  guess,  from  the  feeling.  The  fellow 
lives  in  Room  35,  Morton  Hall.  I'll  show  you  where 
that  is.  I  want  you  to  hide  this  package  in  that  room. 
Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Not  if  he's  in  the  room." 

"  Oh,  he's  going  out  to  a  party  to-night.  You  wait 
in  the  corridor  in  the  dark  till  you  see  him  go.  Slip 
in,  hide  the  package,  and  get  out.  It  won't  take  you 
five  minutes.  Are  you  game  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  you're  giving  big  pay  for  such  a  job. 
What's  up?" 

"Up?  Nothing.  The  girl's  daft.  Her  father's  the 
richest  man  jn  this  town,  and  ten  dollars  is  nothing  to 
her.  Going  to  back  out  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not.  But  there  are  some  fools  left  yet  in 
this  world." 


SETTING  A  SNARE  53 

"  You've  nothing  to  do  with  the  fools.  Just  take 
care  you're  not  one  of  'em." 

By  this  time  they  were  walking  rapidly  in  the 
direction  of  the  seminary.  At  the  door  of  Morton 
Hall  Oren-Toole  paused  in  the  shadow.  "  I'll  wait 
here,"  he  said.  "  You  do  as  I've  told  you  and  you'll 
get  what's  coming  to  you.  See?"  He  showed  the 
corner  of  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

The  old  man  nodded,  winked  craftily,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  unlighted  part  of  the  corridor,  out  of 
reach  of  the  rays  of  the  lamp  at  the  entrance.  Oren- 
Toole  retired  a  little  way  to  the  shelter  of  a  tree.  This 
business  should  not  take  long,  he  calculated.  Either 
Horton  would  have  gone  already,  in  which  case  his 
hireling  would  return  immediately  ;  or  he  soon  would 
go,  and  then  Oren-Toole  could  watch  his  departure. 

Five  minutes  passed  and  then  the  figures  of  both 
Sleighton  and  Horton  were  silhouetted  against  the 
light  at  the  door.  "  That's  all  right,"  Oren-Toole  was 
thinking,  when  to  his  horror  he  heard  Horton  call  after 
the  organist  as  the  latter  passed  out  alone  into  the 
night,  "  Good-bye  !  I'll  be  up  when  you  get  home." 

Oren-Toole  \vas  not  usually  profane,  but  a  smothered 
oath  passed  his  lips  as  Sleighton  walked  rapidly  away 
and  Horton  returned  into  the  building.  "  Dished !  " 
he  added,  and  fell  to  pondering  what  was  to  be  done. 
Probably  the  old  man  would  have  seen  what  he  him- 
self had  seen  and  would  return  shortly,  his  errand 
unaccomplished.  "I'll  wait  here  till  he  comes,"  he 
thought.  At  all  events  he  was  in  ten  dollars.  All 
he  would  now  need  to  do  was  to  provide  the  old  fellow 
with  a  night's  lodging. 

Under  his  tree  he  waited,  and  waited,  and  waited. 
Fifteen  minutes  were  gone  and  still  the  old  man  did 


54  BEADFOKD  HOKTON :  MAN 

not  come.  He  was  growing  rather  nervous.  He  fore- 
saw that  he  would  be  late  in  arriving  at  Miss  Elmore's. 
He  twisted  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  tried  to  quiet 
his  active  brain,  very  much  alive  to  all  the  possibilities 
of  disaster  that  might  ensue  from  the  way  events  had 
turned  out.  "  Why  couldn't  he  go  along  to  the  party 
as  any  sensible  chap  would  !  "  he  grumbled. 

A  half  hour  had  elapsed.  "I  can't  wait  here  for 
that  old  fellow  much  longer.  Good  Lord !  "  as  a  new 
thought  struck  him.  "  Can  he  have  gone  to  investi- 
gating the  package  and  be  waiting  for  a  chance  to 
make  off  with  it  ?  " 

The  dilemma  was  distressing  enough.  Should  he 
enter  the  building,  find  and  collar  the  old  rascal  and 
accuse  him  of  theft,  explanations  would  follow  that 
would  make  his  position  unpleasant.  Should  he  wait 
where  he  was,  however  long,  until  the  old  man  was 
either  thrown  out  as  a  tramp,  or  came  out  of  his  own 
accord,  he  would  miss  the  musicale,  and  questions 
would  be  asked,  and  when  the  money  was  missed  at 
the  bank  in  the  morning,  some  connection  would  be 
made  between  its  disappearance  and  his  own  non- 
appearance  at  Miss  Elmore's.  No  !  He  must  be  seen 
there  at  all  hazards.  It  would  help  him  to  brazen 
through  the  investigation  that  he  now  felt,  unhappily, 
was  sure  to  come. 

"  I'll  go  up  to  Sunset  Hill,  stay  a  while,  leave  fairly 
early  and  then  hunt  up  my  man.  I'm  sure  to  find  him 
somehow.  Anyway,  I'd  best  trust  to  luck.  I'll  bluff 
it  through  to-morrow.  But  I  can't  unless  I  act  like 
myself  to-night,"  and  as  he  reluctantly  left  and  made 
his  way  to  the  Elmore  residence  he  tried  over  and  over 
to  reassure  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  would  cer- 
tainly be  able  to  find  his  man  before  the  opening  of 


SETTING  A  SNAKE  55 

the  bank  to-morrow.  His  arguments  were  specific 
enough.  At  any  rate,  he  felt  he  had  chosen  the  least 
of  several  evils. 

By  a  mighty  effort  he  managed  to  put  away  his 
nervous  wonderings  and  his  racking  suspense,  and  to 
appear  his  usual  gay  and  lively  self.  Joe  Jickers 
bantered  him  on  being  the  slave  of  fashion  in  arriv- 
ing so  late.  "  I've  been  taking  pity  on  the  poor,"  was 
the  sprightly  answer.  Gradually  he  was  convincing 
himself  that  the  old  man  must  still  be  waiting  in  the 
corridor  of  Morton  Hall  for  a  chance  to  do  his  errand. 
"  He  wanted  that  ten  dollars  bad,"  he  thought ;  "  he's 
cornered  there  for  all  the  evening."  His  spirits  were 
gradually  rising  to  their  normal  level. 

Jack  Tappan  picked  him  up  presently  and  introduced 
him  to  Austin  Sleighton. 

"  Glad  to  met  you,  Mr.  Sleighton.  I  think  I  saw  you 
in  the  drug  store  one  night." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  is  your  friend  Horton  going  to  sing  to- 
night ?  "  was  the  next  question. 

"Nothing,"  responded  Sleighton.  "He'll  not  be 
here." 

"  Is  he  ill  ?  "  asked  the  teller. 

"  No,  he  just  wouldn't  come.     That's  all." 

"Tell  him  I'm  awfully  disappointed,"  said  Oren- 
Toole. 

He  was  among  the  earliest  to  leave  the  party,  and 
at  once  made  his  way  back  to  the  seminary.  An  open 
window  made  it  possible  for  him  to  hear  a  tenor  voice 
singing.  "Then  he  didn't  catch  him,"  he  muttered. 
With  desperate  caution  he  slipped  inside  the  dormitory 
corridor,  and  with  one  comprehensive  look  along  its 
length  made  sure  that  his  man  was  not  in  hiding  there. 


66  BEADFOKD  HOETON:  MAN 

The  shock  of  that  discovery  covered  him  with  a  cold 
sweat.  Well,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  find  him. 
He  realized  that  he  could  not  inquire  of  the  police 
without  implicating  himself. 

"  It's  a  still  hunt,"  he  said  grimly.  "  "Well,  Preston- 
bury  is  not  so  large  !  " 

Before  morning,  however,  he  found  that  it  was  large 
enough  to  have  swallowed  up  completely  the  object  of 
his  search. 


VI 
A  SON  WHO  HAEDENED  HIS  HEAET 

IT  was  only  a  moment  after  Oren-Toole's  old  man 
had  established  himself  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
corridor  of  Morton  Hall  that  he  saw  the  door  of 
Room  35  open  and  its  occupant  emerge  and  walk  briskly 
through  the  hall  to  another  room,  which  he  entered, 
closing  the  door. 

"  This,"  thought  the  watcher,  "  is  my  chance."  Very 
cautiously,  and  alert  for  the  sound  of  returning  foot- 
steps, he  entered  the  vacant  room.  He  was  surprised 
at  its  scanty  furniture.  From  the  lighted  lamp  on  the 
table  he  drew  the  conclusion  that  the  occupant  had  not 
gone  out  for  the  entire  evening,  and  so  he  hastened  his 
movements.  But  hardly  had  he  slipped  the  package 
into  the  table  drawer  when  he  heard  steps  returning 
along  the  corridor  so  rapidly  that  he  knew  he  could  not 
escape.  His  only  chance  was  the  little  bedroom  whose 
open  door  was  behind  him.  Passing  quickly  inside,  he 
crept  under  the  bed  to  await  developments.  Presently 
he  fell  asleep. 

Outside  Horton  worked  briskly  till  ten  o'clock. 
Laying  aside  his  books  at  that  hour  he  wrote  a  letter 
to  his  sister,  addressed  it  and  left  it  unsealed  on  the 
table.  The  time  that  must  pass  before  Sleighton 
would  return  was  not  long,  so  he  went  back  to  his 
friend's  room  to  sing  at  the  little  organ. 

Not  until  the  sound  of  the  singing  reached  him  did 

57 


58  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

the  sleeper  under  the  bed  awake.  Listening,  he  could 
hear  no  sound  in  the  outer  room,  so  he  resolved  to 
venture  out.  Had  he  straightway  taken  his  departure, 
coming  events  would  have  been  very  different ;  but  as 
he  passed  the  table  he  noticed  the  superscription  on  the 
letter  lying  there,  addressed  in  Bradford's  bold,  clear 
hand. 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  man  in  surprise ;  " '  Mrs. 
Conrad  Vanderbosch ! '  That's  Anna.  Who's  writing 
to  her  ?  " 

Curiosity  overcame  caution.  He  took  the  letter, 
opened  it,  looked  at  the  signature,  and  with  another 
exclamation  of  surprise  sat  down  to  read.  When  he 
had  finished  the  perusal  he  did  not  move. 

"  So  here's  where  Bradford  lives !  Well,  I've  found 
the  boy  in  a  mighty  odd  way !  I'm  in  luck.  I've 
hidden  the  package.  Probably  that  chap  isn't  waiting 
outside  any  more,  but  I  can  hunt  him  up  to-morrow  and 
tell  him  I  worked  it  all  right.  I  came  to  this  town  to 
find  Bradford,  and  I'll  stay  right  here  till  he  comes  in 
again.  Won't  he  be  surprised !  It's  a  long  time  since 
I've  seen  Bradford." 

The  poor  old  fellow  settled  down  into  the  Boston 
rocker,  in  the  comfort  of  which  he  once  more  fell  into 
a  doze,  the  letter  still  in  his  relaxed  fingers. 

At  eleven  Sleighton  returned.  He  burst  like  a  boy 
into  the  room  where  Bradford  was  still  singing.  "  Oh, 
Brad,  it  was  great — simply  great  1  You  missed  it ;  you 
certainly  missed  it !  " 

"  Did  I  ?  " 

"  You  surely  did !  Let  me  tell  you.  Miss  El- 
more  " 

"  Too  late  for  your  story  to-night,  A.  S.  I'm  going 
to  bed."  He  made  for  the  door. 


A  SON  WHO  HARDENED  HIS  HEART    59 

"  Oh,  no,  you're  not !  You're  going  to  listen.  Sit 
down."  He  backed  up  against  the  door,  blocking 
Horton's  exit. 

"  Get  out  of  my  way,  A.  S.  I  tell  you  I'm  going  to 
bed." 

"Of  course,  later  on.  So  am  I.  Later  on.  But 
now  you're  going  to  hear  about  the  party.  It  was  the 
finest  ever.  Music,  a  spread,  fine  young  people,  Miss 
Elmore " 

"Skip  Miss  Elmore,  Sleighton.  She  was  not  the 
party." 

"  No !  But  the  party  belonged  to  her.  Don't  try  to 
take  your  grumpiness  out  on  me,  boy.  Miss  Elmore 
and  everybody  were  asking  after  you.  Even  that 
Irishman,  O'Toole,  said  he  was  disappointed.  And 
say,  old  man,  there's  a  choral  society  in  this  town  that 
gives  '  The  Messiah  '  every  Christmas  ! " 

"Well,  don't  I  know  it?  I've  been  asked  to  be 
soloist  at  the  next  presentation." 

"  You  have,  and  never  told  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  tell  you  every  breath  I  draw,  Sleighton.  I 
was  going  to  tell  you,  though,  presently." 

"  You  were  ?  All  right.  Say !  what's  the  matter 
with  that  O'Toole?" 

"  Nothing,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"  Do  you  call  him  Oren-Toole,  with  a  hyphen  in  your 
voice,  like  the  rest  of  'em  ?  " 

"  Why  ? "  As  he  spoke  he  took  his  seat  on  the 
organ  stool,  and  Sleighton  left  his  guard  at  the  door. 

"  Because  if  you  do  his  name  is  no  more  Oren-Toole 
than  mine  is." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  call  him  Oren-Toole.  What  difference 
does  it  make  ?  " 

"  None,  only  that's  not  his  name.    He  doesn't  like 


60  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

you.  I  heard  him  say  twice  that  your  solo  Sunday 
morning  was  a  cheap  bid  for  the  First  Church  choir, 
that  you  had  bagged  the  game,  and  that  old  Jickers 
who  had  hired  you  couldn't  tell  the  difference  between 
picking  a  banjo  and  blowing  a  cornet.  Miss  Elmore 
overheard  that,  and  she  said  to  me  so  that  O'Toole  heard 
her,  '  Please  ask  Mr.  Horton  if  he  will  kindly  sing  that 
song  in  our  church  next  Sunday.'  You'll  have  to  do  it, 
Brad." 

"  All  right." 

"  They  say  old  man  Elmore  is  worth  a  million.  And 
this  girl Why,  Brad,  Miss  Elmore " 

"  Stop  that,  Austin,"  said  Horton  wearily.  "  I  tell 
you  I  don't  want  to  hear  about  her  or  any  other  girl. 
One  beat  me  out  of  being  a  lawyer ;  another  shall  not 
beat  me  out  of  being  a  minister." 

Sleighton  paused  a  moment  as  if  uncertain  what  to 
say  next.  Horton  moved  uneasily.  "  Hold  on !  be 
easy !  What  were  we  talking  about,  Brad  ?  Oh,  I 
know !  'Twas  that  Oren-Toole,  and  how  he's  down  on 
you.  He  was  pitching  in  about  that  Robin  Adair  song, 
too.  So  I  told  him  the  minister  asked  you  to  sing  it. 
*  Did  the  minister  ask  him  to  wear  that  white  carna- 
tion, too  ? '  he  sneered.  Then  young  Jickers  took  it 
up.  '  Oren-Toole,'  said  he, '  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
I'm  the  carnation  malefactor,  and  not  the  minister.  I 
put  that  on  his  hymn-book,  my  little  old  founded- 
in-1827-self.'  Then  there  was  a  roar,  and  Miss  El- 
more   " 

But  Bradford's  patience  was  exhausted.  "  Shut  up ! " 
he  cried  angrily.  "  I  tell  you  I've  heard  enough  about 
girls,"  and  with  a  rush  he  was  out  of  the  room. 

Then  quick  upon  the  sound  of  his  hurrying  feet 
Sleighton  heard  an  excited  call.  "Austin,  Austin 


A  SON  WHO  HARDENED  HIS  HEART    61 

Sleighton,  come  here!  There's  a  sneak  thief  in  my 
room ! " 

Sleighton  ran  down  the  corridor  to  find  Horton 
holding  in  a  firm  grasp  an  old  man,  who  begged  and 
pleaded  to  be  released.  "  I'm  not  a  thief.  I've  taken 
nothing,  I  haven't,  Bradford.  I  haven't  taken  a  thing." 

Like  avenging  justice  Horton  towered  above  his 
poor  old  captive.  "  Hold  him,  A.  S.,"  he  cried,  "  while 
I  search  him."  He  gave  a  vicious  shake  to  the  cower- 
ing figure  as  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Bradford  !  I'm  too  old.  I  haven't  done 
anything." 

Sleighton  grasped  the  old  man's  arms,  though  not  so 
roughly  as  Bradford  had  done,  and  held  them  while 
Horton  searched  his  pockets.  All  he  found  was  an  old 
knife,  some  keys  and  a  bundle  of  letters  tied  with  a 
faded  blue  ribbon.  "  He's  stolen  nothing.  Let  go  of 
him,  Austin,"  said  the  searcher  as  he  released  his  own 
grasp  with  a  final  shake. 

"  Don't  shake  me  so,  Bradford.  Please  don't  shake 
me  so."  The  trembling  wail  was  pitiful  to  hear. 
"  I've  been  looking  for  you — I've  been  looking  for 
you." 

"  Looking  for  me  ?  Did  you  expect  to  find  me  in 
that  envelope  ? "  His  laugh  was  bitter  and  harsh. 
"  "What  do  you  want  here  ?  Come !  What  do  you 
want  ?  " 

"I  want  you,  Bradford.  I  didn't  know  where  I 
was  until  I  saw  your  name.  I  didn't,  Bradford." 

"  What  are  you  calling  me  Bradford  for  ?  Who  are 
you  ?  " 

Sleighton  was  looking  in  mute  astonishment  at  the 
two  men.  He  had  never  seen  such  an  exhibition  of 
passion  as  his  friend  was  showing,  and  would  have 


62  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

interfered  had  he  been  able.  As  it  was,  he  stood 
speechless  while  Horton  jammed  the  old  man  down 
into  the  Boston  rocker.  "  You  can  rest  there  a  minute," 
he  said  curtly.  "A.  S.,  I  found  this  old  man  here 
asleep,  with  my  letter  open  in  his  hand.  You  watch 
him  and  I'll  call  the  police." 

"  Oh,  no,  Bradford  !  "  The  old  man  started  up 
greatly  excited.  "  I'm  not  a  thief.  You  said  I  hadn't 
taken  anything.  But  you've  got  my  letters.  They're 
your^  mother's  letters,  Bradford.  Give  them  to  me. 
They're  all  I  have  now,  Bradford." 

A  sudden  gleam  of  light  flashed  on  Austin  Sleighton. 
There  was  a  life  story  behind  Bradford  Horton  that 
had  not  been  told.  Was  this  old  man  his  father  ? 
Bradford  was  still  towering  over  the  shrinking  figure. 
"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  thundered.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  talking  about  my  mother  ?  " 

The  answer  came  slowly :  "  I'm  an  old  man,  Brad- 
ford. I'm  not  strong,  and  I'm  hungry.  I've  eaten 
nothing  since  noon.  Why  do  I  talk  about  your  mother  ? 
Because  I  loved  her,  Bradford.  You  never  knew  her. 
She  died  when  you  were  a  little  baby.  Give  me  back 
my  letters,  Bradford." 

Knowing  what  must  come,  angry  to  the  centre  of  his 
soul,  the  young  man's  only  answer  was,  "  How  did  you 
know  my  name  ?  " 

"  I  saw  it  signed  to  the  letter,  Bradford." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  my  mother  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  know  about  her  ?  "  As  he  answered  a 
fragment  of  dignity  that  must  once  have  been  his 
appeared  in  him.  "  She  was  my  wife,  a  better  wife 
than  I  deserved.  I'm  your  father,  Bradford.  Don't 
you  know  me  ?  I'm  An " 

His  sentence  was  never  finished.     The  young  man 


A  SON  WHO  HARDENED  HIS  HEART    63 

starting  towards  him  in  fury  shouted,  "  Stop  !  Don't 
you  dare  go  on."  The  threat  in  his  voice  was  effective 
and  a  long  silence  followed.  The  old  man  sat  in  the 
Boston  rocker  ;  the  incensed  son  faced  him  from  beyond 
the  table;  Sleighton  leaned  against  the  door  and 
watched  them  both.  "  Bad  mess,  this,"  he  was  think- 
ing. "  His  father,  eh  ?  This  beats  the  snow-bank." 

At  last  with  evident  effort  Bradford  Horton  spoke. 
"  Father,  what  were  you  doing  in  my  room  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  your  room,  Bradford.  I 
came  in  here  to  do  an  errand  for  a  man ;  he  gave  me 
my  dinner  to-day,  and  was  good  to  me,  and  I  wanted  to 
pay  him  back.  There  was  no  harm  in  it.  It  was  a 
surprise,  you  know,  Bradford,  a  surprise." 

"  I  should  say  it  was — a  complete  surprise,  too. 
Who  was  the  man.  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  What  was  the  surprise  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  Bradford.  The  man  told  me  to  let 
no  one  know.  You'll  find  out  to-morrow." 

"  No,  I  won't.  I'll  find  out  to-night.  You'll  tell  me 
what  your  precious  surprise  is  or  I'll  have  you  in  the 
police  station  in  half  an  hour,  father,"  and  the  bitter- 
ness in  the  last  words  made  Sleighton  shiver. 

"  Oh,  no !  Bradford,  no !  Don't  send  me  to  the 
station,"  begged  the  forlorn  man.  "  Give  me  your 
mother's  letters  and  I'll  go."  His  voice  broke  as  he 
remembered  for  what  a  differen  t  reception  he  had  hoped. 

But  Bradford  was  untouched.  "What  is  the  sur- 
prise ?  "  As  he  asked  he  returned  the  bundle  of  letters. 
"  What  is  the  surprise  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Bradford.  I  hid  it  as  the  man  told 
me  to.  You'll  find  it  to-morrow.  I've  got  to  keep  my 
promise  to  the  man,  Bradford." 


«4  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  Promise  ?  You  keep  a  promise  ?  Bring  out  your 
surprise  or  I'll " 

"  It  was  a  present,  Bradford,  from  a  lady,  a  young 
lady  who  didn't  want  you  to  know.  The  man  said  it 
was  handkerchiefs." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  " 

The  old  man  opened  the  table  drawer  and  produced 
the  package.  "  Here  it  is,  Bradford."  He  laid  it  on 
the  table. 

Horton  looked  at  his  watch.  "  There's  time,"  he 
said.  "  "Will  you  take  a  short  walk  with  me,  Sleighton  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  short  or  long,"  answered  Sleighton  gravely. 

"Come,  father!  You've  saved  yourself  from  one 
station,  but  you've  earned  another.  I'm  going  to  give 
you  a  free  ride." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Bradford.  I  don't 
want  the  package.  It's  yours." 

"  I'll  give  it  to  you,  father.  I've  never  given  you 
anything  before,"  the  angry  son  answered,  and  thrust 
the  package  into  the  old  man's  pocket.  "  Come  on 
now  to  the  station." 

"  Oh,  don't  take  me  away,  Bradford.  I  came  to 
Prestonbury  to  live  with  you.  It  won't  be  for  very 
long.  I'm  a  broken  old  man,  Bradford." 

Horton  surveyed  his  father  for  a  moment  as  if  he 
were  debating  whether  or  not  he  should  relent  and  face 
all  that  his  father's  presence  there  would  mean.  Then 
his  face  hardened,  and  with  bitterness  he  answered, 
"  ISTo ;  you'll  have  to  go.  Come  on." 

The  walk  to  the  railway  station  was  trying  to  Brad- 
ford Horton.  The  poor  old  wreck  kept  up  his  plead- 
ing. "  I'm  an  old  man,  Bradford.  I  haven't  any 
home.  Let  me  stay,  Bradford.  Let  me  stay."  But 
the  son  was  inexorable.  Shame  at  the  situation  in 


A  SON  WHO  HARDENED  HIS  HEART    65 

which  the  old  man's  coming  had  placed  him  made  him 
sore  and  angry  to  the  centre  of  his  being. 

At  the  door  of  the  sleeping  car  he  handed  the  con- 
ductor a  ticket  to  New  York,  purchased  with  money 
which  he  could  ill  afford  to  spare ;  paid  also  the  Pull- 
man fare  and  tipped  the  porter,  with  the  request  to  see 
the  passenger  safely  put  down  at  the  end  of  the  run. 
To  his  father,  just  before  he  turned  away,  he  gave  a 
dollar,  the  last  in  his  wallet. 

"  This  will  buy  you  a  meal  or  two,"  he  said,  "  if  you 
don't  spend  it  for  drink."  It  was  a  most  unfilial  and 
unlovely  parting  word. 

The  old  man  answered  only,  "I  don't  drink  now, 
Bradford.  I've  reformed." 


vn 

THE  EEVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE 

"^  |  ^AKE  that  rocker,  Sleighton.  It's  comfort- 
able. I'll  walk  while  I  talk.  No,  no,"  as 
JL  his  friend  demurred,  "  sit  down.  I'd  rather 
walk."  It  was  half -past  twelve.  The  silence  that  had 
followed  the  departure  of  the  midnight  train  had  been 
almost  unbroken  as  the  two  young  men  walked  back  to 
the  seminary.  Sleighton  watched  his  friend's  nervous 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Bradford,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  wouldn't  talk  to- 
night. You're  all  upset.  You'd  better  go  to  bed." 

"No.  We'll  have  it  out.  You've  had  a  look  into 
my  closet,  now  I'll  bring  out  the  skeleton.  I  want  you 
to  know  the  bottom  facts." 

"  Guess  I  do  understand  the  bottom  facts,  Brad.  I 
don't  care  for  the  details." 

Bradford  stopped  walking.  The  confidence  in 
Sleighton's  tone  came  as  a  surprise.  "You  don't? 
After  that  scene  ?  " 

"  That  scene  doesn't  change  my  opinion  of  you.  I'm 
your  friend,  you  know." 

Bradford  grasped  the  hand  held  out.  "  You're  one 
worth  having,  too,"  he  said,  his  voice  choked  with 
emotion.  "  You  mean  you  believe  in  me  in  spite  of 
having  seen  what  my  father  is  ?  " 

"I  do." 

"  My  father  !  Think  of  it !  "  He  resumed  his  nerv- 
ous pacing  up  and  down  the  room.  "  But  my  mother 
wasn't  that  sort,  Sleighton.  She  was  beautiful  and 

66 


THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE          6T 

gifted  and  had  some  property  when  she  married  him. 
He  broke  her  heart — at  least,  I  can  remember  his  tell- 
ing me  so,  long  years  ago,  when  I  last  saw  him.  I 
never  knew  her.  She  died  when  I  was  born.  My  fa- 
ther deserted  me Oh,  I've  had  no  easy  row  to 

hoe,  A.  S. !  " 

"  Don't  tell  me  about  it — it  upsets  you,  Bradford." 

"  Guess  you're  right.  Oh,  A.  S.,  now  I've  made  a 
place  for  myself  in  the  world,  and  am  started  to  be  a 
man,  why  did  he  have  to  turn  up  here  ?  I  couldn't 
keep  him.  How  can  I  record  myself  as  the  son  of  a 
drunken  vagabond  ?  But  I'll  never  be  the  same  to  you, 
now  you  know." 

"Just  the  same,  my  boy.  I'm  Scotch-Irish,  you 
know.  "We  never  go  back  on  our  friends.  You  were 
adopted,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Yes.  Horton  was  my  adopted  father's  name.  I 
never  knew  till  I  was  thirteen  that  he  wasn't  my  own 
father.  Oh,  it's  no  use,  Sleighton — I  must  talk  this 
out.  Let  me  tell  you  the  whole  wretched  story." 

The  narrative  that  followed  was  not  a  short  one. 
From  it  Sleighton  learned  in  detail  the  facts  about  his 
friend's  early  life  and  the  reasons  that  made  it  impos- 
sible, as  it  seemed  to  him,  for  him  to  acknowledge  his 
real  parentage,  particularly  in  Prestonbury.  "  People 
have  got  to  take  me  for  what  I'm  worth  in  myself,"  he 
ended.  "  I've  got  to  win  on  my  own  merits." 

"  You'll  win,  all  right,"  said  Sleighton  with  confi- 
dence. "I'll  stand  by  you.  I  can't  blame  you  for 
feeling  as  you  do  about  your  father ;  but,  Bradford,  I 
wish  you  had  kept  him  till  morning." 

"  I  couldn't,"  said  Bradford  miserably.  "  Oh,  Sleigh- 
ton, I  didn't  know  he  was  even  living  1  It's  too  much  ! 
What  sent  him  here  ?  " 


C8  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  God,"  was  Sleighton's  solemn  answer. 

****** 

The  messenger  of  the  Preston  Plow  Company  noticed 
that  the  package  given  him  by  Oren-Toole  at  the  bank 
next  morning  was  sealed  with  three  big  red  seals.  He 
spoke  of  it  as  he  took  it.  "  It's  the  only  safe  way,"  the 
teller  answered. 

The  messenger  repeated  the  words  to  the  cashier  of 
the  plow  company  as  he  broke  the  seals.  "  Great 
Scott ! "  exclaimed  the  cashier.  "  Safe  way  !  Martin, 
have  you  had  this  open  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Pick  up  those  scraps  and  come  with  me  to  the  bank." 

Oren-Toole,  shaking  inwardly,  saw  the  messenger  re- 
turning with  his  chief.  He  braced  himself  for  the  part 
he  must  play,  but  his  easy  manner  hardly  concealed 
the  traces  of  his  sleepless,  anxious  night. 

"  Mr.  Teller,"  said  the  plow  company  official,  "  did 
you  give  this  man  a  package  for  us  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  did,  sealed  with  three  seals." 

"Is  this  it?"  And  upon  Oren-Toole's  assent,  he 
added,  "  Open  it,  will  you  ?  " 

Oren-Toole  opened  the  package  with  perfect  calm- 
ness. "  What's  this  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  look  of  great 
astonishment  as  he  saw  the  contents ;  "  what's  your 
joke?" 

"  It's  no  joke.  That  package  came  to  me  with  three 
unbroken  seals.  You  see  what  was  in  it  when  I  opened 
it." 

Oren-Toole  called  Mr.  Maxwell,  and  to  him  the  facts 
of  the  case  were  rehearsed.  He  directed  Oren-Toole  to 
replace  the  money  at  once,  asking  the  cashier  to  say 
nothing  of  the  matter  to  any  one,  and  at  once  sent  a 
summons  to  the  directors  of  the  bank  to  meet  at  one 


THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE    C9 

o'clock.  At  that  meeting  Oren-Toole  again  told  the 
story  of  how  he  had  put  up  the  money  the  day  before, 
and  that  morning  given  it  to  the  messenger.  To  the 
majority  of  his  hearers  the  whole  thing  seemed  a  mys- 
tery. But  Ansley  Jickers,  who  with  his  father  and 
brother  was  among  the  directors,  spoke  up  promptly  in 
response  to  the  president's  request  for  opinions. 

"  If  you  please,"  he  said,  turning  to  Oren-Toole,  "  I 
should  like  to  ask  the  teller  some  questions.  Mr.  Oren- 
Toole,  who  was  the  old  man  talking  with  you  by  the 
bank  door  yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  teller,  outwardly  cool 
but  within  both  astonished  and  frightened.  "  He  was 
an  old  tramp  who  asked  me  for  a  dime  as  I  went  out  at 
noon  for  dinner.  He  looked  hungry  and  poor,  and  I 
took  him  to  Sylvester's." 

"  You  are  sure  you  do  not  know  who  he  was  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Was  he  in  the  bank  at  all  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware." 

"  Have  you  seen  him  since  you  gave  him  his  dinner  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  twice.  I  left  the  bank  for  a  few  minutes 
about  three  o'clock,  and  he  stood  by  the  door.  On  my 
way  to  the  musicale  last  night  I  saw  him  again  on  the 
street  going  towards  the  seminary." 

"  Was  Mr.  Horton  in  the  bank  when  you  counted  this 
cash?" 

"Yes." 

"  Whereabout  in  the  bank  does  Mr.  Horton  work  ?  " 

"  Next  desk  to  me." 

"  Did  he  see  you  count  this  money  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  knew  I  was  counting  and  putting  money 
into  a  package." 

"  Did  Mr.  Horton  see  this  old  man  with  you  ?  " 


70  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  I  think  not." 

"  Did  any  one  ?  " 

"  It  seems  you  did." 

"  You  say  you  went  out  in  the  afternoon.  About 
what  time  ?  " 

"  Three  o'clock." 

"  Was  any  one  left  in  the  bank  with  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 

"  No.     The  other  clerks  had  gone." 

"  How  long  were  you  gone  from  the  bank  ?  " 

"  A  half  hour." 

"Could  Mr.  Horton  have  taken  this  money  and 
put  the  dummy  pieces  in  its  place  while  you  were 
gone?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  you  put  into  the  safe  the  package  which  the 
plow  company  has  returned  ?  " 

"  I  put  a  package  into  the  safe,  and  as  the  safe  bears 
no  mark  of  having  been  opened,  I  suppose  it  was  the 
same  that  I  delivered  to  the  messenger." 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Ansley.  "  Mr.  President,  I  think 
we  can  give  the  teller  leave  to  retire." 

When'Oren-Toole  had  gone,  the  lawyer  continued : 

"  Gentlemen,  there  has  been  no  robbery  of  the  safe. 
It  could  only  be  opened  by  an  expert,  and  he  would 
have  left  his  marks.  A  thief  would  have  taken  all  the 
money  in  the  safe,  and  have  left  no  dummy.  The 
original  package  never  went  into  the  safe.  This  rob- 
bery is  somewhere  between  the  teller,  Mr.  Horton  and 
the  old  man." 

"  "Who  do  you  think  took  it,  squire  ?  "  asked  a  di- 
rector. 

"  I  do  not  think — I  know." 

"  Who  was  it  ?    How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  on  the  stand,  gentlemen,"  said  the  lawyer. 


THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE    71 

"  Have  the  directors  anything  to  propose  ? "  asked 
the  president. 

"  Yes !  "  Two  or  three  spoke  at  once.  "  Issue  a 
warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Mr.  Horton  and  have  his  room 
searched." 

"  Gentlemen,"  spoke  up  the  druggist,  "  issue  a  war- 
rant for  iny  arrest  and  search  the  drug  store.  You'll 
find  just  as  much  of  that  money  there  as  in  Mr.  Hor- 
ton's  room.  This  talk's  all  rubbish,  as  far  as  that 
student's  concerned.  The  money  is  gone.  Now  keep 
still ;  lay  low.  Two  thousand  dollars  can't  go  flying 
off  without  leaving  some  clew.  There's  a  bungler  at 
the  bottom  of  this,  but  his  name  isn't  Bradford  Horton." 

Nevertheless  the  arrest  and  search  were  ordered.  Mr. 
Elmore,  Mr.  Maxwell,  Oren-Toole  and  the  Jickers 
brothers  were  in  the  office  of  the  police  magistrate  when 
the  officer  arrived  with  Horton.  The  formal  charge  of 
having  robbed  the  bank  was  preferred  by  the  president 
and  treasurer.  Ansley  Jickers  announced  himself  as 
counsel  for  the  prisoner,  and  asked  permission  to  see 
him  alone  before  the  hearing.  The  officer  reported  a 
careful  search  of  the  student's  room,  and  no  money  to 
be  found  nor  any  trace  of  any. 

Oren-Toole  told  his  story,  making  no  charges  and 
giving  no  hint  that  he  suspected  any  one.  Horton,  to 
whom  the  arrest  had  come  as  a  bolt  from  the  blue, 
stated  his  case,  the  old  man  figuring  largely  in  the  nar- 
rative. His  closing  was  suggestive  : 

"  I  put  a  package,"  he  said,  "  about  the  size  of  this 
dummy  into  the  inside  pocket  of  the  old  man's  coat.  I 
think  it  must  have  contained  the  missing  money.  I 
believe  the  person  who  the  old  man  said  gave  him  the 
package,  if  he  can  be  identified,  is  the  man  who  took 
the  money." 


72  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

The  face  of  Oren-Toole  flushed  and  then  went 
which  Ansley  Jickers  noticed.  "  I  knew,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  I  knew  that  I  knew."  Aloud  he  addressed 
the  magistrate.  "  Your  honour,  I  wish  to  ask  Mr. 
Oren-Toole  some  questions  based  on  what  he  has  al- 
ready said  to  the  directors  of  the  bank.  I  wish  to  know 
if  he  usually  counts  out  and  puts  up  money  the  day  be- 
fore it  is  wanted  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  answered  the  teller. 

"  How  came  you  to  do  it  in  this  case  ?  " 

"  The  plow  company  had  sent  up  a  memorandum  of 
the  particular  denominations  of  bills  they  wanted,  and 
I  was  making  sure  we  had  them." 

"  At  what  time  of  day  did  you  put  up  this  money  ?  " 

"  Between  one  and  three  o'clock." 

"  That  was  after  you  had  seen  the  old  man  ?  " 

Oren-Toole  assented. 

"  How  was  it  that  you  and  Mr.  Horton  were  alone 
in  the  bank  that  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Two  of  the  clerks  had  gone  out  by  special  permis- 
sion to  see  the  ball  game." 

"  You  went  out  at  three  o'clock  also,  leaving  Mr. 
Horton  alone  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Had  you  put  the  money  in  the  safe  before  going  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Mr.  Horton  could  have  stolen  that  money  and  gone, 
or  made  the  dummy  package  and  gone,  before  your  re- 
turn, could  he  not  ?  " 

The  answer  was  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Did  you  not  think  of  this  as  possible  ?  " 

"  That  is  an  improper  question,  Mr.  Jickers,"  inter- 
rupted the  magistrate.  "The  inquiry  will  stop  here. 
Mr.  Horton  is  held  in  two  hundred  dollars  bail.  In  de- 


THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE         73 

fault  of  that  we  shall  have  to  entertain  you  over  Sun- 
day, Mr.  Horton.  Court  will  resume  this  inquiry  on 
Monday  morning  at  ten  o'clock." 

Mr.  Elmore  promptly  furnished  the  bail  and  the 
group  of  seminary  students,  who  had  been  present  at 
the  hearing,  escorted  Bradford  back  to  his  room.  Not 
a  man  of  them  believed  him  guilty. 

****** 

An  hour  after  the  hearing  Oren-Toole  and  Maxwell 
were  closeted  with  Mr.  Elmore  in  the  latter's  private 
office  at  the  bank.  The  president  did  not  wish  to  think 
that  Hortou  had  taken  the  money,  and  was  certain 
Oren-Toole  had  not.  On  the  whole,  Horton's  story 
seemed  less  credible  than  the  teller's.  He  remembered 
hearing  Eleanor  say  at  breakfast  that  she  had  given  her 
party  just  to  have  Mr.  Horton  sing  at  it,  and  how  he 
had  sent  regrets.  "  Why  did  he  send  regrets  ?  "  the 
president  asked  himself,  recalling  the  circumstance. 
He  turned  in  perplexity  to  the  teller. 

"  Oren-Toole,  you  said  you  saw  that  old  man  going 
towards  the  seminary  last  night.  Do  you  think  he  was 
going  there  ?  " 

"  I  do  now,  sir." 

"  Have  you  any  theory  about  this — this  robbery  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  think  the  old  man  had  the  money  on  his 
person  then.  I  think  he  was  going  to  Mr.  Horton's 
room."  The  teller  had  lost  all  his  nervousness  and  was 
playing  his  game  with  skill  now. 

"  But  how  could  the  old  man  get  the  money  ?  Who 
gave  it  to  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Horton  gave  it  to  him.  Gave  it  during 
the  half  hour  that  I  was  out  of  the  bank.  They  are  ac- 
complices." 

There  was  a  long  silence.    Both  men  feared  the  teller 


74  BRADFOED  HOKTON:  MAN 

was  right ;  both  hoped  he  was  wrong.  Both  felt  the 
attraction  of  Horton's  personality  and  longed  to  believe 
him  what  he  seemed.  But  Oren-Toole's  manner  carried 
conviction  with  it. 

"  Sam,  what's  to  be  done?"  the  president  asked  at  last. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maxwell  slowly.  He  had  been 
evolving  a  scheme  in  his  mind  that  would  be  practical, 
perhaps,  if  they  were  sure  of  Oren-Toole's  trustworthi- 
ness. "  I  don't  know,  unless  we  send  some  one  to  New 
York  and  hunt  up  the  porter  who  carried  the  old  man. 
If  he  verifies  Horton's  story,  then  we  could  put  the 
police  on  track." 

"  Then  you  think  as  I  do,  that  the  old  man's  got  the 
money  ?  " 

"  Looks  that  way."  Maxwell  remembered  Ansley's 
questions  at  the  hearing,  which  had  aroused  doubts  in 
his  mind  ;  but  he  quieted  the  doubts  with  the  assurance 
that  lawyers  were  always  suspicious.  "  And  Oren- 
Toole's  the  only  one  of  us  that  could  identify  the  old 
fellow." 

"  Send  him  on  this  detective  excursion  then,"  said 
Mr.  Elmore  promptly.  His  confidence  in  the  teller  was 
unshaken,  and  went  far  towards  bolstering  up  Maxwell's 
faith.  So  the  matter  was  decided  ;  and  as  no  time  was 
to  be  lost,  Oren-Toole  was  to  take  the  Sunday  night 
train,  which  would  carry  the  same  shift  of  men  as  Fri- 
day's. 

Bradford  Horton,  in  the  meantime,  returning  from 
dinner,  had  found  on  his  table  a  small  vase  holding  a 
single  white  carnation.  "  Miss  Jickers  again,"  he  said, 
smiling.  But  that  was  his  last  happy  moment  that 
afternoon.  The  events  of  the  preceding  night  and  the 
morning  just  past  were  fresh  in  his  mind,  and  his  con- 
science was  in  active  rebellion  against  the  part  he  had 


THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE    75 

played  with  his  father.  His  Greek  Testament  had  lost 
its  usual  charm  ;  an  attempt  to  study  Hebrew  brought 
no  better  result.  Before  him  on  the  page  stood  the  ab- 
ject figure  of  a  pleading  old  man.  Conscience  had  led 
him  to  her  judgment  bar. 

"  You  are  not  happy,"  began  the  self -arraignment. 
"  What  is  the  trouble  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  happy — happy  enough.  There's  no 
trouble."  The  reply  was  dogged. 

"  You  were  in  an  uncomfortable  position  this  morn- 
ing," the  debate  went  on  within  him  in  spite  of  himself. 
"  It  is  not  wise  for  a  student  for  the  ministry  to  be 
charged  with  crime." 

"  I  did  not  put  myself  there.  How  was  I  to  blame  ? 
Come — how  was  I  to  blame  ?  "  The  reply  was  sullen. 

"  What  will  you  do  Monday  morning  ?  Suppose 
you're  held  for  trial.  Then  you'll  be  a  party  to  a  fine 
scandal." 

"  I  won't  be  held.  My  story  will  free  me  Monday 
morning."  The  reply  was  like  bravado. 

"  You  would  have  had  no  story  to  tell  this  morning 
had  you  not  acted  like  a  brute  to  your  father.  His 
presence  and  the  package  would  have  freed  you  and 
fixed  the  guilt  where  it  belongs,  and  you  would  not  be 
unhappy  as  you  are." 

"  Father  ?  Don't  talk  to  me  about  my  father. 
Henry  Horton  was  my  father."  The  reply  was  angry. 

"  Was  he  ?  I  think  not,"  came  the  answer  of  the  self 
who  knew  the  truth.  "  It  was  your  father  to  whom 
you  were  so  brutal." 

"  Brutal,  was  I  ?  Well,  what's  he  ever  done  for  me  ? 
He's  a  vagabond."  The  reply  was  aggressive. 

"  No  doubt — no  doubt.     But  he's  your  father." 

"  Ffl"g  it  all,  PI!  not  badger  myself  to  death  for  a 


76  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

wretch  who  broke  ray  mother's  heart."  There  was  a 
show  of  virtue  in  the  reply.  It  ended  the  inquisition 
for  the  moment,  and  though  still  restless  and  perturbed 
the  young  man  took  up  the  Testament  in  English. 
"  There'll  be  comfort  here,"  he  thought. 

The  book  fell  open  at  the  eighth  of  Romans.  "  There 
is  therefore  now  no  condemnation  to  them  that  are  in 
Christ  Jesus." 

He  dropped  the  book  and  jumped  from  his  chair  as 
if  he  had  been  struck  from  behind.  He  had  heard  a 
voice  sound  through  his  soul,  "  How  much  is  a  man  in 
Christ  Jesus  who  turns  his  father  out-of-doors  ?  " 

In  pleading  tone,  aloud,  he  said,  "  What  else  could  I 
do  ?  I  had  no  bed  for  him.  I  had  no  money  for  him. 
What  could  I  do  with  him  ?  " 

Then  conscience  made  the  fiercest  attack  of  all. 
"  You  could  have  found  a  place  for  your  father.  The 
money  that  bought  the  ticket  to  New  York  would  have 
kept  him  over  night  at  least.  Pride  was  your  trouble, 
Bradford  Horton ;  pride  and  shame.  You  were  ashamed 
to  have  Sleighton  see  that  unlovely  father.  You  did 
not  wish  Mr.  Elmore  to  know  that,  though  your  lie  was 
unintentional,  you  had  lied  to  him  about  Henry  Hor- 
ton. You  did  not  wish  the  Jickers  people — Miss  Lucy, 
yes,  and  for  that  matter  Miss  Elmore " 

Then,  angry  to  his  heart's  core,  and  angry  only  at 
himself,  he  burst  out  bitterly,  "  I'll  have  no  more  of  this. 
I  know  why  I  did  what  I  did,  and  I'll  do  what  I  choose 
to  do  without  your " 

"  No,  you  will  not,  Bradford  Horton.  You're  a 
coward,  an  arrant  coward.  Look  at  yourself.  You 
turned  that  old  man  adrift  not  because  he  was  so  utterly 
disreputable  but  because  he  was  your  father.  Fine 
minister  you'll  make.  Is  this  part  of  your  *  sum  of 


THE  REVENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE    77 

direction '  ?  Suppose  he  comes  back  some  time  by  day- 
light ?  Then  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

Then  Bradford  Horton  seized  his  hat  and  started  as  if 
pursued.  Street  after  street  he  traversed,  coming  at 
last  to  the  baseball  park,  where  a  game  was  in  progress. 
He  entered  the  park ;  but  the  game  was  dull.  The 
vision  of  his  father  begging  for  his  letters  and  crying, 
"  I've  been  looking  for  you,  Bradford,"  would  not  leave 
him. 

Joe  dickers  spied  him  in  the  crowd,  and  they  walked 
back  to  town  together.  Sleighton  was  at  supper  when 
he  reached  the  boarding-house,  and  the  first  words  of 
his  friend  only  intensified  the  misery  of  the  afternoon. 
"  You  ought  to  have  kept  your  father,  Bradford.  He 
would  have  bottled  up  that  Oren-Toole." 

Bradford  made  no  reply,  but  sat  moodily  through  the 
meal.  A  thought  of  the  white  carnation  in  the  vase  on 
his  table  crossed  his  mind.  "  I'll  go  thank  Miss  Jickers 
for  this  last  kindness,"  he  thought. 

The  old  doctor  met  him  at  the  door.  "  Lucy's  not  at 
home,"  he  announced.  "  But  come  in,  anyway.  I'm 
not  a  girl,  and  I'm  not  as  young  as  I  was,  but  I'm  glad 
to  see  you.  Henry  Horton's  son  will  always  be  wel- 
come in  my  house." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  library.  "  So  they  accused  you 
of  robbery  ?  No  son  of  Henry  Horton  could  ever  be 
guilty  of  robbery." 

"  There !  There ! "  said  watchful  conscience.  "  There's 
your  chance  to  get  straight  with  one  man.  Tell  him 
the  truth."  But  Bradford  did  not  obey.  He  sat  silent, 
thinking  what  to  say,  and  before  his  reply  was  ready 
Dr.  Jickers  was  filling  the  pause. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  How  clearly  I  can  see  Henry 
Horton !  He  left  the  old  town  where  we  were  boys  to- 


f 8  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN" 

gether  when  he  was  about  eighteen.  He  went  to 
Glencoe  into  the  cotton  factory.  A  born  business  man, 
was  Henry.  How  old  were  you  when  he  died  ?  " 

"  Thirteen,  sir." 

"  Pretty  young.     Do  you  remember  him  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  sir." 

"  "Well,  it's  a  great  thing  to  have  a  good  inheritance 

— he  was  a  fine  man.  I  remember "  and  the  old 

doctor  rambled  on  with  stories  of  Henry  Horton's  boy- 
hood, while  Bradford  grew  more  and  more  uncomfort- 
able, until  it  was  time  for  the  young  man  to  go  to  choir 
rehearsal,  and  he  departed,  the  truth  still  untold. 

Sleighton  was  in  his  room  at  his  little  organ  when  his 
friend  came  in  from  rehearsal.  Sleighton  was  cheerful, 
Horton  wholly  depressed. 

"  I  wonder  where  he  is,"  was  his  first  utterance. 

"  "Who  ?    "Where  who  is  ?  "    Sleighton  kept  on  playing. 

"  My  father." 

"  Oh  !  So  there's  where  you  are.  I  don't  wonder 
you're  glum." 

"  Yes,  there's  where  I  am.  I've  been  there  all  day. 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  knew  you'd  ask  that."  The  tone  was  not  com- 
forting. 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  getting  acquainted  with  you.  You  have 
too  much  conscience  to  be  brutal  and  stay  so,  long." 

"  Brutal  ?    Do  you  think  I  was  brutal  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes — don't  you  ?    The  old  man  was  your  father." 

The  answer  was  more  than  the  overwrought  man 
could  bear.  On  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  intensely 
angry,  he  fairly  hissed  at  Sleighton :  "  You  against 
me,  too  ?  I  did  not  expect  that  of  you,  Austin  Sleigh- 
ton," The  door  slammed  and  he  was  gone. 


THE  EEYENGE  OF  CONSCIENCE          79 

Sleighton  was  too  wise  to  follow.  "He'll  have  to 
fight  this  out  alone,"  was  the  organist's  only  comment. 

And  the  fight  was  hard.  The  storm  broke  almost  be- 
fore he  had  closed  his  door  behind  him. 

"  I  know  what  hell  is ! "  he  cried.  "  I  know  what 
hell  is !  God !  Is  there  a  God,  then  ?  Is  this  the 
way  God  calls  me  to  the  ministry  ?  What  sort  of  a 
God  are  you  ?  I  come  here  to  try  honestly  to  be  a 
man.  You  send  this  old  reprobate  to  bring  me  into 
disgrace.  I  try  to  rise  to  respectability  ;  you  hang  this 
drag  upon  my  soul.  Tell  them  ?  Go  tell  Elmore  and 
Jickers  that  I  am  a  liar  ?  Then  what  ?  Oh,  my  God, 
why  are  you  so  hard,  so  hard,  so  hard  ?  " 

For  an  hour  these  winds  of  passion  swept  his  soul. 
At  last  down  on  his  knees  he  fell.  "  Oh,  my  God,  my 
God  ! "  was  his  last  bitter  cry  ;  then  all  was  still. 

"When  Sleighton  entered  half  an  hour  later,  overcome 
by  anxiety  as  to  his  friend's  condition,  he  found  Brad- 
ford bowed  before  the  old  chair.  He  gave  no  sign  that 
he  heard,  and  was  still  as  if  dead.  Sleighton  watched 
the  motionless  man  for  a  moment  and  then  laid  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Brad,  old  boy,"  he  asked  gently,  "  are  you  sick  ? 
Are  you  asleep  ?  " 

Slowly  Horton  raised  his  head.  "  No,  not  sick,"  he 
answered.  "  But  I  have  almost  cursed  God,  Austin.  I 
am  glad  you  have  come.  I  have  had  an  awful  battle, 
but  I've  conquered.  I'm  sorry  I  was  angry  at  you — 
very  sorry.  God  has  forgiven  me — now  you  will,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Brad,  I  will,"  said  Austin  Sleighton  slowly. 

On  Monday  morning  no  one  appeared  against  Brad- 
ford Horton,  and  the  magistrate  dismissed  the  case. 


Yin 

SUEPEISED  IN  CASH 

"  T^     If  BAN  ?      He's    the   meanest    cuss   in  two 

I  %/l  worlds!  Great  God!  How  he  shook 
jLv  JL  me!"  The  poor  old  derelict  in  the  Pull- 
man berth  had  not  slept  in  the  hours  that  had  passed 
since  he  boarded  the  train  at  midnight.  Gradually  his 
bitter  disappointment  at  the  reception  he  had  met 
changed  to  an  equally  bitter  resentment  of  his  son's 
treatment,  until  dawn  found  him  in  a  raging  passion, 
whose  only  vent  was  in  maledictions  and  curses. 

"  When  I  get  to  New  York  I'll  make  my  will,"  he 
muttered  laughing.  "  I'll  leave  him  all  I  have."  Then, 
with  a  quick  change  of  thought,  "No,  no,  I  won't! 
He  shan't  have  his  mother's  letters.  I'll  have  them 
buried  with  me.  Poor  Laura !  " 

Daylight  was  coming  in  at  the  window  of  his  berth, 
and  still  he  lay  thinking. 

"  What  was  that  surprise  ?  Wonder  what  girl  would 
send  Bradford  a  surprise  ?  Ten  dollars  for  it,  too ! 
Something  queer  about  that ! "  He  reached  for  his 
coat. 

"  Bradford  didn't  want  his  surprise,  so  I'll  surprise 
myself  with  it,"  he  said  as  he  drew  out  the  package. 
Raising  himself,  he  read  for  the  first  time  the  super- 
scription: "Mr.  Bradford  Horton,  Prestonbury  Theo- 
logical Seminary."  He  scanned  the  writing.  "No 
girl  ever  wrote  that.  That's  a  man's  hand." 

In  a  moment  the  parcel  was  open.  "  Good  Lord  ! " 

80 


SURPKISED  IN  CASH  81 

he  ejaculated  as  he  stared  at  the  contents.  "  Surprise  ? 
I  should  say  so.  Biggest  surprise  I've  had  in  years." 
He  counted  the  bills,  then  began  to  laugh.  "  I  guess 
I  can  forgive  Bradford  now.  But  that  red-headed 
man " 

His  mind  began  busily  to  work  out  a  theory;  he 
was  not  too  entirely  broken  for  clear  thought.  "  Brad- 
ford didn't  know  a  thing  about  this,"  he  concluded. 
"  That  red-headed  man  did.  He's  a  bank  clerk  ;  this 
is  bank  money.  But  why  did  he  want  me  to  hide  it  in 
Bradford's  room?  What's  the  game?  I  guess  I've 
saved  Bradford  from  a  striped  suit,  and  it  won't  hurt 
me,  either.  No  one  will  ever  find  it  on  me."  The  old 
man  chuckled  with  real  joy. 

Suddenly  the  curtains  of  his  berth  were  parted. 
"  Albany !  "  said  the  porter  in  his  ear.  "  Breakfast 
hyah  ! "  Then,  at  the  sight  of  the  money  spread  out 
before  him,  "  Oh,  Lawd,  boss  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  wha'd 
ye  get  dat  ?  Wha'  ye  gwine  do  wid  dat  ?  " 

But  without  waiting  for  an  answer  to  his  question 
the  amazed  porter  vanished,  and  his  place  was  taken  in 
a  moment  by  two  conductors. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  so  much  money  spread 
out  on  your  bed  ?  "  one  asked  suspiciously. 

"  Counting  it,  to  see  if  I'd  lost  any  in  the  night." 

"  Aren't  you  the  man  a  young  fellow  put  on  the  train 
at  Prestonbury  ?  " 

"  Same  one." 

"Who  was  he?" 

"My  son." 

"  You  and  he  don't  look  much  alike." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

The  conductors  conferred  together,  but  spoke  so 
loudly  that  Anson  overheard.  One  said:  "The  old 


82  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAI* 

fellow  and  the  young  one  are  probably  a  pair  of  crooks. 
This  money  is  loot  from  somewhere.  Let  him  alone 
now.  Wire  New  York  to  have  an  officer  at  the  train." 

"  Let  'em  wire,"  said  the  old  man  as  they  disappeared. 
"  There'll  no  officer  find  me." 

When  the  train  pulled  away  from  Albany  one  lower 
berth  was  empty. 

The  old  man  was  familiar  with  Albany.  The  Albe- 
made  was  not  far  away,  and  he  registered  there  as 
"  Bradford  Horton,  New  York,"  by  way  of  diverting 
from  himself  any  possible  search  for  the  money. 
When  he  asked  for  a  room,  however,  the  clerk,  survey- 
ing him  askance,  replied,  "  Sorry,  Mr.  Horton,  but  we 
can't  accommodate  you." 

"  That's  all  right,  my  boy,  that's  all  right.  But  I've 
got  a  room  here  waiting.  You  see  I  keep  the  key  al- 
ways with  me." 

"  Key?    You've  no  key  to  any  room  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have !  Got  a  key  to  every  hotel  in  this 
town."  He  pulled  the  package  from  his  pocket,  took 
out  a  hundred  dollar  bill  and  laid  it  on  the  desk. 
"  What's  that  but  a  key  ?  Show  me  up." 

The  clerk's  manner  changed  instantly.  "  Well,  all 
right,  Mr.  Horton.  I  see  you've  got  a  key.  Front !  " 
And  very  deferentially  he  was  committed  to  the  direc- 
tion of  a  spruce  bell-boy. 

In  the  mirror  of  his  room  the  new  occupant  surveyed 
himself.  "  I'm  not  handsome,  not  one  bit.  I  don't 
blame  the  boy  for  thinking  I  was  a  hobo.  How  he'll 
stare  when  I  go  down." 

He  ordered  a  haberdasher  and  barber.  Going  down 
to  a  late  breakfast,  some  time  after,  he  saw  that  he 
had  been  right  about  the  effect  on  the  clerk  of  his 
transformation.  He  spent  an  hour  at  the  table,  aston- 


SURPRISED  IK  CASH  88 

ishing  the  waiters  by  his  appetite,  smoked  a  cigar,  took 
the  precaution  of  depositing  his  money  in  the  hotel  safe 
and  ordered  a  carriage  for  a  drive  about  the  city  he 
had  once  known  well.  Dismissing  the  equipage  after 
he  tired  of  it,  he  began  to  walk  through  the  more 
familiar  streets,  passing  finally  down  Capitol  Hill  and 
through  Washington  Street.  A  wave  of  sentiment 
swept  over  him. 

"  Laura  lived  here,"  he  said.  "  Poor  Laura !  I  wish 
she  could  see  me,  now  that  I've  reformed.  How  glad 
she  would  be  !  I  told  Bradford,  but  he  didn't  believe 
me.  Bradford  didn't  know  how  generous  he  was.  Two 
thousand  dollars !  Good  Lord  !  "Why,  I  can  make  a 
fortune  with  two  thousand  dollars  ! " 

Thus  thinking  and  talking  to  himself,  the  old  man 
came  to  a  corner  where  stood  a  brilliant  saloon,  and 
where  the  fumes  of  the  drinkables  were  on  the  air. 
Involuntarily  he  paused,  sniflfed,  looked  at  the  door. 
That  look  was  the  end  of  his  good  resolutions.  He 
went  into  the  saloon. 

That  day's  drunkenness  was  destined  to  be  his  last 
earthly  debauch.  He  was  arrested  before  night,  too 
drunk  to  realize  where  he  was  or  what  he  had  done. 
He  had  taken  with  him,  when  he  went  out,  two  hun- 
dred dollars  from  the  package.  It  was  gone ;  his  new 
clothes  were  soiled  and  torn.  The  smashing  of  a  plate- 
glass  window,  through  which  he  had  hurled  a  paving 
stone  in  anger  at  his  ejection  from  a  saloon,  had  caused 
his  arrest.  Arraigned  on  Monday  morning  he  begged 
piteously  for  release,  but  without  avail.  He  was  con- 
signed to  the  workhouse  for  three  months. 

Oren-Toole,  in  accordance  with  Mr.  Elmore's  plan, 
started  for  New  York  on  Sunday  night.  The  trip  was 
in  no  way  to  his  liking.  If  he  should  succeed  in  finding 


8*  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

the  old  man  and  the  package,  Horton's  story  would 
be  verified.  Then  what  ?  On  the  other  hand,  if  mat- 
ters could  only  remain  as  they  were,  with  no  investi- 
gation, he  would  be  able  by  degrees  to  spread  the  story 
that  Horton  took  the  money,  gave  it  to  the  old  man 
and  sent  him  away  with  it  to  a  safe  shelter. 

He  knew  some  would  believe  such  a  theory  at  first 
hearing,  and  that  the  number  would  increase  until 
eventually  Horton  would  be  utterly  discredited  in 
Prestonbury.  The  trip  he  was  making,  however, 
would  probably  not  allow  matters  to  remain  as  they 
were,  but  there  was  no  alternative.  He  must  not  only 
go,  but  must  have  some  sort  of  report  to  make  on  his 
return. 

On  the  train  he  learned  from  the  porter  the  story  of 
an  old  man  with  a  lot  of  money,  bound  for  New  York, 
who  disappeared  at  Albany.  This  information  materi- 
ally changed  Oren-Toole's  plan  of  action.  He  stopped 
at  the  capital.  "  If  I  find  the  old  duffer  and  the  money," 
he  said,  "  I'll  get  it,  and  make  him  tell  me  that  Horton 
gave  it  to  him  and  started  him  for  New  York,  but  that 
he  left  the  train  at  Albany,  so  as  to  dodge  Horton  and 
keep  the  money  himself." 

The  scheme  was  becoming  somewhat  complicated, 
Oren-Toole  felt,  but  his  position  was  intricate  and  he 
must  figure  some  way  out. 

"  Then,"  he  went  on  planning,  "  I'll  take  the  money 
home  and  charge  the  theft  on  Nancy  boy."  That  he 
could  use  the  old  man  for  his  tool  in  any  way  he  liked 
seemed  a  certainty.  "  If  I  don't  find  the  money,  I'll 
report  that  I  couldn't  find  the  old  man.  Either  way 
will  ruin  Dudie  in  the  long  run." 

The  new  plan  worked  well.  Going  for  breakfast  to 
the  Albemarle  and  casually  running  his  eye  over  the 


SURPRISED  IN  CASH  85 

register  as  a  beginning  of  his  search,  he  found  the  entry, 
"  Bradford  Horton,  New  York."  Turning  to  the  clerk 
he  asked  that  his  card  might  be  taken  to  Mr.  Horton. 

"  Mr.  Horton's  not  here,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Not  here  ?    Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Sorry,  sir,  but  we  can't  tell  you." 

"When  will  he  be  in?" 

"  Can't  say  as  to  that,  either." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  at  all  about  him  ?  " 

"  Not  a  thing." 

"  He  was  here,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  he  have  any  money  ?  " 

"  Sure !    We  don't  give  free  beds  here." 

"  Did  he  have  much  ?  " 

If  Oren-Toole  was  incautious  in  his  question,  the 
clerk  was  not  so  in  his  answer.  "  How  would  I  know 
whether  he  had  much  or  little  ?  He  paid  his  bill  in 
advance ;  that's  all  I  cared  about." 

"  Perhaps  you  think  I'm  meddling  with  what  is  none 
of  my  business,  but  I'm  not.  The  truth  is,  a  robbery 
was  committed  in  Prestonbury  last  Friday  night  and 
suspicion  has  fastened  upon  this  Mr.  Horton." 

"  He  didn't  look  like  a  robber.  He  was  a  rather 
shabbily  dressed,  inoffensive  looking  old  man  when  he 
came  hi.  He  bought  a  new  suit  before  he  went  out." 

"  You  say  he  paid  his  bill.  Was  it  with  big  bills  or 
small  ones  ?  " 

"  Paid  with  a  hundred  dollar  bill.  We  changed  it 
for  him." 

"  And  he  didn't  say  where  he  was  going  ?  " 

With  patience  at  last  worn  out,  the  clerk  gave  a 
gurly,  "  Say,  who  are  you,  anyway — the  father  or 
mother  of  this  old  man  ?  " 


86  BRADFOKD  HOKTON :  MAN 

"  You  go  to  h "  answered  Oren-Toole.  "  I've 

learned  all  I  want  to  know." 

But  he  had  not ;  he  wanted  to  find  the  old  man. 
Satisfied  that  he  had  been  at  the  Albemarle  and  had 
the  money,  he  more  than  ever  wanted  to  recover  the 
money  and  the  man.  His  search  lasted  all  day,  but 
was  without  results,  and  he  took  an  evening  train  for 
home,  determined  to  report  his  search  fruitless. 

On  the  train  he  bought  an  evening  paper,  and  among 
its  police  items  found  one  that  interested  him.  An  old 
man  had  been  arraigned  that  morning  and  sent  to  the 
workhouse  for  smashing  the  costly  plate-glass  front  of 
a  saloon.  He  had  pleaded  for  release  on  the  ground 
that  he  would  pay  all  the  damages,  as  he  had  money 
in  the  safe  at  the  Albemarle.  The  judge  had  ridiculed 
the  story  and  sent  him  up.  His  name,  the  paper  stated, 
was  Andrew  Drum. 

Oren-Toole  smiled  as  he  read.  "  Bradford  Horton, 
alias  Andrew  Drum,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  I  know  where  the  old  man  is  and  where  the 
money  is  now.  and  I  know  what  to  do.  I'll  tie  Nancy 
boy  up  into  a  little  bundle  before  I  get  through." 


IX 
ANOTHER  SONG  AND  A  FRESH  CARNATION 

•<  TT  TT  OW  any  one  who  can  be  as  nice  as  you,  Hor- 
I  I  ton,  can  be  so  stubborn,  I  don't  understand." 
JL  JL.  "  "Well,  Austin,  don't  try.  You'll  have  an 
easier  time."  Horton's  refusal  to  join  the  Prestonbury 
Shakespeare  Club  was  the  occasion  of  these  remarks. 
The  refusal  had  been  impolitic,  beyond  question.  The 
club  was  a  notable  affair,  composed  of  the  most  cultured 
people  of  the  city,  and  a  few  seminary  students  were 
year  by  year  invited  to  join  it.  Sleighton  and  Horton 
had  just  received  such  an  invitation,  and  Sleighton  had 
accepted  at  once. 

Bradford's  courteous  letter  declining  the  honour  was 
disappointing  to  the  club.  It  was  the  first  intimation 
received  by  society  in  general  of  his  entire  lack  of 
interest  in  what  it  might  offer,  but  it  was  followed  dur- 
ing the  autumn  by  other  refusals  of  other  invitations. 
"  Too  bad,"  said  the  ladies,  "  that  one  who  can  sing  so 
wonderfully  and  who  is  so  handsome  should  be  such  a 
bear,"  and  with  that  they  dropped  him. 

Little  he  cared.  With  steady  consistency  he  held  to 
his  course,  giving  himself  with  all  the  ardour  of  his 
strong  nature  to  study  and  to  his  music.  He  committed 
to  memory  the  whole  of  "  The  Messiah  "  in  preparation 
for  the  Christmas  presentation  of  the  great  oratorio, 
but  steadily  refused  to  attend  the  frequent  rehearsals. 
He  saved  money,  too,  and  just  before  the  end  of  the  fall 
term  made  a  call  upon  Mr.  Elmore. 

87 


88  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  I  would  like  to  pay  my  promissory  note  for  fifty 
dollars,  Mr.  Elmore,"  he  said. 

The  president  was  greatly  surprised.  Such  a  thing 
had  not  happened  before  in  forty  years.  For  just  a 
moment  the  question  was  in  the  president's  mind,  "  I 
wonder  if  this  is  part  of  that  stolen  money."  Then  he 
was  ashamed  that  such  a  thought  could  occur  to  him. 

"  There  !  "  thought  the  young  man  as  he  went  down 
the  steps  of  the  great  house  on  Sunset  Hill,  "  I'm  free ! 
If  ever  I  have  to  meet  Miss  Elmore  now,  I  can  look  her 
in  the  face  without  being  ashamed." 

At  the  bank  next  day  Mr.  Elmore  talked  the  matter 
over  with  his  cashier.  "Sam,  that's  a  remarkable 
young  man,"  he  began.  "  The  dean  was  up  a  few 
nights  ago.  He  said  the  old  Greek  professor  was 
astonished  at  his  knowledge  of  the  Greek  Testament. 
I'm  inclined  to  think  he'll  be  our  next  incumbent  of  the 
chair  the  old  man  now  occupies,  and  it  may  be  as  soon 
as  he  graduates.  He's  brilliant,  yes,  fascinating. 
Why,  when  he  paid  me  that  money  last  night  he  made 
me  feel  like  apologizing  for  ever  having  lent  it  to  him. 
There's  a  great  future  for  him." 

The  evening  mail  of  the  same  day  brought  Mr. 
Elmore  a  letter  postmarked  "  Glencoe."  It  would  be 
hard  to  describe  his  emotions  as  he  held  it.  If  not 
exactly  a  voice  from  the  dead,  it  certainly  came  from  a 
far  distant  past.  But  his  emotions  before  opening  it  were 
as  nothing  to  those  which  swept  his  soul  when,  having 
read  it,  he  laid  it  down.  "  The  wretch  !  "  he  said,  after 
a  moment's  silence.  "I  think  he  stole  that  money," 
The  letter  ran : 

"SlEt 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  you  have  written  to 
me.    Your  present  assurance  surpasses  your  past  faith- 


ANOTHER  SONG  AND  A  CARNATION  89 

lessness.  Bradford  Horton,  of  whom  you  write,  is  no 
son  of  mine.  He  was  found  on  my  porch  when  a 
baby.  I  would  have  sent  him  to  the  county  house,  but 
my  husband  kept  him.  He  grew  up  in  my  house,  has 
been  disobedient  and  ungrateful,  and  I  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  him.  You  may  do  as  you  please. 

"ROSALIE  HORTON." 

For  two  days  a  storm  raged  in  this  man's  heart. 
Rosalie  Horton  had  stung  him  to  the  quick  in  his  most 
vulnerable  point — his  pride.  Over  and  over  he  repeated 
the  words,  "  Your  present  assurance  surpasses  your  past 
faithlessness,"  and  the  oftener  he  thought  of  them  the 
fiercer  burned  the  fire  of  his  wrath.  He  had  laid  him- 
self open  to  this,  he  remembered,  for  the  sake  of  a  man 
who  was  proved  an  impostor. 

At  last  he  became  more  calm.  Rosalie  he  could 
forget,  but  the  man  who  had  lied  to  him  and  caused  his 
discomfiture  he  would  be  compelled  to  see  often.  His 
feeling  of  fascination  with  Bradford  Horton  turned 
now  towards  hate,  and  more  than  once  he  said, "  Rascal ! 
He  stole  that  money." 

The  day  after  the  receipt  of  the  letter  he  called 
Oren-Toole  into  his  office  at  the  bank.  "  I  may  as 
well  confess  to  you,"  he  began,  "  that  I  have  steadily 
thought  that  you  took  the  money  which  the  bank  lost 
in  September,  not  to  steal  it,  but  for  some  reason  to 
have  it  found  in  Horton's  possession.  Now  I  know  I 
have  been  wrong.  I  have  information  that  makes  me 
know  him  thoroughly  unworthy  of  belief  about  any- 
thing. He  undoubtedly  took  the  money  while  you 
were  out  of  the  bank  and  gave  it  to  the  old  man,  who 
was  his  accomplice.  The  old  man  had  the  money 
when  he  left  here,  or  part  of  it.  You  may  be  able  to 
find  it  when  he  comes  out  of  the  jail.  In  no  other  way 


90  BKADFOED  HORTON  :  MAN 

can  it  ever  be  proved.     But  proved  or  not,  I  wholly 
exonerate  you." 

Oren-Toole  thanked  Mr.  Elmore  for  his  confidence, 
made  no  other  reply,  and  went  back  to  his  duties  in  the 
counting  room.  But,  strangely  enough,  he  felt  more 
uncomfortable  over  the  affair  than  ever  before. 


The  day  for  theannual  presentation  of  "  The  Messiah  " 
was  approaching  rapidly.  Horton  had  not  attended 
one  rehearsal.  "Whenever  the  subject  was  broached  he 
made  plausible  excuses,  but  at  last  Sleighton  was  in- 
structed to  tell  him  he  must  come.  "  You'll  have  to  go, 
Brad,"  he  added  as  he  delivered  the  message.  "  The 
society  is  quite  inclined  to  be  indignant  at  you." 

"  Is  it  ?     Why  at  me  and  not  at  Morosini  ?  " 

"  Morosini  ?  Are  you  crazy,  man  ?  Morosini  is  an 
artist  and  non-resident." 

"  An  artist,  eh  ?  "Well,  what  am  I  ?  Come,  Austin 
Sleighton,  what  am  I  ?  " 

Sleighton  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  utter  aston- 
ishment ;  the  cool  self-conceit  of  that  questioning  reply 
was  too  much  for  him.  "  Brad,  you're  my  friend,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  If  you  weren't,  I  should  call  you  a  con- 
ceited jackass." 

But  Horton  had  his  way.  He  did  not  attend  a 
rehearsal. 

On  the  oratorio  night  in  Christmas  week  a  brilliant 
audience  filled  every  seat  in  the  concert  hall.  It  was 
the  event  of  the  holiday  season.  As  the  curtain  rose, 
Horton's  eyes  swept  over  the  audience  and  caught  the 
expectant  smile  of  Lucy  Jickers,  the  only  girl  in  the 
city  to  whom  he  had  shown  the  least  attention.  Alice 
Lee  was  in  Joe's  escort.  The  Maxwells  were  near,  but 


ANOTHER  SONG  AND  A  CARNATION    91 

there  was  no  Ehnore  to  be  seen.  He  did  not  think  to 
look  at  the  balcony  boxes.  Indeed,  he  hardly  thought 
at  all.  His  surroundings  seemed  to  him  like  a  dream, 
and  he  heard  the  orchestra  as  if  it  were  in  another 
world.  He  knew  when  it  was  leading  up  to  his  first 
recitative,  but  that  was  all 

Presently  he  felt  that  some  one  had  risen  and  was 
standing  alone.  It  was  himself.  He  heard  the  sound 
of  a  voice  ringing  out  the  words,  "  Comfort  ye,  comfort 
ye  my  people,"  and  realized  it  was  his  own.  Then 
came  oblivion  to  all  surroundings.  What  made  the 
sudden  silence  ?  It  brought  him  back  to  himself,  and 
a  soul-fear  was  on  him  like  an  obsession.  Had  he 
failed?  Then,  with  equal  suddenness,  the  pent-up 
emotion  of  the  audience  burst  forth  and  swept  through 
the  hall,  wave  after  wave  of  applause,  like  waves  that 
beat  against  a  headland.  The  singer  rose,  bowed, 
resumed  his  seat.  Morosini  offered  his  hand.  "  Con- 
gratulations, monsieur,"  he  said,  and  at  that  act  new 
applause  rang  through  the  hall.  But  Horton  sat 
impassive  through  it  all  He  had  scored ;  he  would 
not  risk  an  encore. 

Bradford  Horton  had  achieved  his  little  triumph,  but 
the  climax  of  that  night  had  not  yet  come.  That  was 
reached  with  the  great  aria  in  the  second  part.  Many 
in  the  audience  knew  every  movement  of  the  song,  but 
no  ear  in  Prestonbury  had  ever  heard  it  sung  like  the 
cry  of  a  penitent  soul  pleading  with  God.  It  awed  and 
hushed  the  throng,  and  the  strains  of  the  orchestra  be- 
came almost  inaudible.  On  and  on  the  singer  went  to 
the  end.  Then  dead  silence;  even  the  orchestra  was 
atilL 

Horton  stood  like  one  unconscious  of  time  or  place  or 
self,  until  he  saw  a  single  flower  fall  at  his  feet,  flung 


92  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

by  a  girl's  hand  from  a  box  above.  Taking  it  from  the 
floor  and  looking  upward  to  acknowledge  the  compli- 
ment, he  saw  Miss  Elmore.  The  flower  was  a  white 
carnation.  "  So  it  was  not  Lucy  Jickers,"  he  thought, 
as  he  placed  it  in  his  buttonhole.  With  a  word  to  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra  and  a  sign  to  Sleighton  at  the 
piano,  he  began  the  old  song,  "If  with  All  Your 
Hearts." 

As  the  last  note  died  he  looked  up,  and  as  on  that 
first  September  afternoon  their  eyes  met.  Those 
"  wells  of  fire,"  as  he  had  called  them  once,  kindled  a 
conflagration  in  his  soul  that  he  knew  would  not  be  ex- 
tinguished until  death. 

Richard  Elmore  saw  his  look,  and  understood,  and 
his  heart  was  hot  against  the  man  who  had  deceived 
him,  caused  him  humiliation,  robbed  him,  and  who  now 
was  using  his  power  to  fascinate  his  daughter.  What  ? 
An  upstart,  who  could  not  even  tell  the  truth  about 
himself,  dare  to  lift  his  eyes  in  a  public  assembly  to  his 
Eleanor  ? 

The  Elmore  carriage  was  very  silent  on  the  home- 
ward drive.  The  father  was  planning  the  course  to 
take  with  his  daughter.  The  mother  knew  her  hus- 
band's mood,  and  held  her  peace.  The  girl  was 
living  over  the  evening,  with  its  heart- stirring  enjoy- 
ment. 

"  Eleanor,"  said  her  father  as  they  stepped  into  the 
hall,  "  I  want  to  see  you  a  moment." 

"  All  right,  father."     They  stepped  into  his  office. 

"  Eleanor,"  he  began,  "  you  were  exceedingly  indis- 
creet to-night." 

"  Was  I  ?  "  she  said  surprised.     "  How  ?  " 

"  The  whole  house  saw  you  throw  that  white  carna- 
tion, Eleanor." 


ANOTHER  SONG  AND  A  CARNATION    93 

"  Of  course.  They  couldn't  help  it.  What  was  in- 
discreet about  that  ?  " 

"  Can  you  not  see  ?  Had  you  thrown  single  flowers 
to  each  soloist  it  would  have  been  right  enough.  But 
you  singled  out  one,  and  that  one  a  man." 

"  Sure,  daddy.  He  was  the  only  one  singing  and 
the  only  one  worth  it.  I  couldn't  throw  four  flowers 
to  four  singers  when  there  was  only  one." 

"  Eleanor,"  said  her  father  gravely,  "  we  must  not 
quarrel.  I  fear  we  will  if  you  evade.  You  meant  that 
flower  as  a  particular  mark  of  favour  to  that  particular 
singer,  and  I  saw  the  look  he  gave  you.  I  know  a  lit- 
tle about  hearts,  dear  child.  Let  the  folly  end  here. 
Take  with  you  from  this  room  no  sentiment  regarding 
the  man  who  calls  himself  Bradford  Horton." 

"  Calls  himself  ?  "  The  girl  caught  the  insinuation 
in  her  father's  emphasis.  "  Do  you  not  call  him  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  shall  call  him  so,  if  I  have  occa- 
sion to  speak  to  him,  but  that  is  not  his  name." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  no  one  does.  He  does  not  know 
himself." 

"  What  makes  you  say  that  ?  " 

For  answer  he  turned  to  his  desk.  "  Read  that, 
Eleanor,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  her  Rosalie  Horton's 
letter. 

She  read  it  without  comment.  Displeased  at  her 
continued  silence  he  resumed,  "  Well,  daughter  ?  " 

"  Well,  father  ?  "  was  her  reply. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  that  letter  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  writer  is  less  than  a  woman."  There 
was  deep  scorn  in  the  low,  cold,  deliberate  answer. 

"  How  less  than  a  woman  ?  What  is  less  than  a 
woman  ?  "  . 


9±  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  A  homicide,"  she  said. 

"  That  is  intemperate  language,  Eleanor." 

u  No,  father.  It  is  sober,  calm,  judicial.  Why  did 
she  not  kill  the  baby  that  she  never  loved  ?  Why  does 
she  wait  until  he  is  a  man  among  strangers  ?  She  can- 
not kill  him  now,  so  she  damns  him.  Who  is  she  ?  " 

The  father  did  not  fancy  the  mood  his  daughter  was 
displaying.  He  was  being  drawn  further  into  the  mat- 
ter than  he  had  meant  to  go.  His  answer  was  pitifully 
weak. 

"  She  is  the  writer  of  that  letter,  Eleanor." 

"  You  knew  her  once,  did  you,  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !     I  knew  her  once." 

"  When  did  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  When  I  was  in  college." 

"  Oh,  was  it  a  college  love  affair  ?  " 

The  girl  had  turned  the  table  on  him.  He  was  thor- 
oughly uncomfortable. 

"  Why,  yes,  dear.     You  might  say  it  was." 

"  Were  you  and  she  engaged  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  we  were." 

"  And  she  broke  it  ?  " 

"  No,  she  did  not.    I  did  not.    It — well,  it — it  lapsed." 

"  Is  that  what  she  means  by  faithlessness,  father  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  she  was  not  my  mother.  Do  you 
know  what  she  thinks  ?  I  do.  She  hates  you,  and  has 
for  years.  You  wrote  to  her  about  Mr.  Horton,  and 
this  reply  of  hers  is  not  aimed  at  him  but  at  you.  She 
means  to  stab  you  in  your  tenderest  spot — your  sense 
of  honour.  She  wanted  to  make  you  feel  you'd  been 
taken  in.  She's  a  coward,  and  no  woman." 

The  father  was  glad  to  end  the  interview.     "  Good 
night,  dear.     We  will  let  the  past  go,  but  for  the  future 


ANOTHER  SONG  AND  A  CARNATION    05 

remember  you  are  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  this 
man." 

"  Why,  daddy,  I  never  have  had  anything  to  do  with 
him.  He  would  not  come  to  my  party.  The  girls  say 
he  shuns  society.  He  makes  no  calls.  Don't  be  unfair 
because  I  threw  him  a  flower.  Don't  be  unfair  because 
of  that  woman  from  whom  you  happily  escaped.  There's 
some  mistake  or  mystery  about  this.  She  has  not  told 
it  all.  Good-night,  father."  She  kissed  him  and  was 
gone. 

By  themselves,  the  father  and  mother  talked  for  an 
hour,  but  got  no  farther  than  Mrs.  Elmore's  first  re- 
mark, which  was  also  her  last :  "  I  told  you,  Richard, 
when  you  wrote  to  that  Rosalie  that  she  would  be  fu- 
rious." 

By  post  the  next  day  there  came  to  Eleanor  Elmore 
a  letter  in  an  unfamiliar  hand.  Its  contents  were  brief. 

"  DEAR  Miss  ELMORE  : 

"  I  have  not  known  until  to-night  to  whom  I  was 
indebted  for  the  white  carnation  that  was  on  my  hymn- 
book  at  Second  Church  last  September,  nor  to  whom 
to  feel  grateful  for  the  sympathy  manifested  by  the 
same  token  at  the  time  of  my  arrest.  The  white  carna- 
tion of  to-night  has  established  the  identity  of  the 
hitherto  unknown  giver.  Please  accept  the  sincere 
thanks  of  one  who  is  and  must  remain  a  stranger. 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"BRADFORD  HORTON." 


X 

THE  SNAEE  SET  AGAIN 


"  Yes,  sir." 

At  the  call  Oren-Toole  entered  the  office  of 
the  president,  elated  and  with  elastic  step.  Never  be- 
fore had  Mr.  Elmore  called  him  by  his  Christian  name. 
"  I've  been  thinking  it's  nearly  time  for  that  old  man 
to  be  released  from  the  jail.  What  did  you  say  was 
his  name  ?  " 

"  Drum  —  Andrew  Drum.  The  hundred  days  will  be 
up  on  Wednesday,  sir." 

"  Go  to  Albany  to-morrow.  When  he  is  released,  if 
he  proves  to  be  your  old  man,  bring  him  here.  I  shall 
go  to  the  bottom  of  this  money  story.  If  Horton  stole 
it  and  gave  it  to  the  old  man  to  take  away  I'll  send  them 
both  to  state's  prison,"  Mr.  Elmore  concluded  grimly. 

The  bank  teller  had  an  unhappy  day.  To  bring  that 
old  man  back  to  Prestonbury  and  have  him  tell  the 
truth,  as  he  probably  must  if  Mr.  Elmore  questioned 
him,  was  the  thing  farthest  possible  from  his  intentions. 
But  he  could  not  escape  the  trip  to  Albany,  and  how 
to  lie  his  way  out  of  the  entanglement  did  not  at  once 
appear. 

"  I'll  go  to  Albany  to-morrow.  Well  !  Old  Drum 
will  come  out  Wednesday.  If  I  can  manage  a  way  to 
stay  away  until  Saturday  night  I  can  work  it.  While 
Horton  is  singing  Sunday  morning  Drum  and  I  can  hide 
that  money  in  Horton's  room,  and  then  I'll  have  Nancy 

96 


07 

boy.  Won't  I  ?  I  guess  !  But  how  can  I  keep  away 
until  Saturday  ?  " 

So  he  worried  all  day  long.  Circumstances,  however, 
were  shaping  to  play  Oren-Toole's  game  for  him  better 
than  he  could  play  it  himself. 

The  Prestonbury  papers  next  morning  announced : 
"  Our  new  student,  Bradford  Horton,  the  singer  who  so 
surprised  and  pleased  every  one  by  his  work  in  *  The 
Messiah,'  will  appear  in  the  same  oratorio  in  Albany 
on  Thursday  night  of  this  week." 

Oren-Toole  read  that  at  breakfast,  and  could  scarcely 
believe  his  eyes.  Then  he  said,  "  That  will  be  the  un- 
luckiest  engagement  you  ever  made,  Nancy  boy.  I'll 
bottle  you  up  now."  His  plan  was  formed  in  an  in- 
stant. 

He  was  at  the  jail  next  morning  in  good  season  and 
was  told  Andrew  Drum  would  be  discharged  at  ten 
o'clock.  Not  thinking  it  best  to  meet  Drum  in  the 
presence  of  the  officials,  he  went  into  the  street,  where 
he  walked  up  and  down  near  the  gate. 

Andrew  Drum  left  the  prison  in  high  spirits.  "  I'll 
go  to  the  Albemarle,"  he  thought,  "get  my  money 

and  leave  Albany  on  the  first  train.  I'll "  His 

thought  was  stopped  abruptly  by  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Hello,  Horton  !  How  are  you  ?  Didn't  expect  to 
have  company  waiting  for  you,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't.  My  name's  not  Horton,  and  I  don't 
know  you,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  don't  ?    "Well,  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Drum — Andrew  Drum." 

"  Drum,  eh  ?  Drum's  good.  You  beat  me  once, 
and  I  was  no  drum.  Now,  drum  or  bugle,  I'll  be 
bio  wed  if  I  don't  beat  you.  Where's  that  parcel  I  gave 
you  ?  " 


98  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  know  you,"  insisted  the  other. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do.  I  gave  you  a  parcel  to  hide  in  a 
room  in  Prestonbury,  and  you  didn't  do  it.  I  want  that 
parcel." 

The  old  man  saw  denial  was  useless  and  changed  his 
tactics. 

"  Yes,  I  recollect  now.  You're  the  man  with  the 
surprise." 

"  Exactly.    I  want  that  parcel." 

"  Do  you  want  to  hide  it  in  the  man's  room  ?  Is  the 
girl  getting  anxious  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  be  insolent,  you  old  rip,"  Oren-Toole 
answered  harshly.  "  Come  here."  He  seized  his  cap- 
tive roughly  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  a  cab.  "  Get 
in,"  he  ordered.  "  Drive  to  the  Albemarle,"  he  called 
to  the  driver.  "  Now  what's  your  name  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  Andrew  Drum.  I  hid  that  parcel  just 
as  you  said  in  that  man's  room." 

"  Stop  your  lying,"  said  the  teller.  "  Your  name's 
not  Drum.  You  registered  at  the  Albemarle  as  Brad- 
ford Horton." 

"Well,  suppose  I  did,"  was  the  defiant  answer. 
"  What  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Business  ?  You  hadn't  a  cent  the  day  I  picked  you 
up  in  Prestonbury.  You  had  a  big  pile  of  money  at  the 
hotel,  and  left  it  there.  That  money  was  in  my  parcel, 
and  I'm  going  to  have  it.  You'll  hand  it  over  to  me  or 
I'll  send  you  to  state's  prison." 

The  answer  to  that  threat  surprised  Oren-Toole. 
"  You  send  me  to  state's  prison  ?  Not  much !  But  I 
can  send  you  there.  Handkerchiefs,  were  they  ?  Now 
you  say  money.  See  here,  you  smart  Aleck  !  I'm  a 
lawyer.  You  stole  that  money.  I  thought  when  you 
offered  me  ten  dollars  to  do  such  a  little  thing  it  was 


THE  SNAKE  SET  AGAIN  99 

queer.  Now  I  see  through  it.  For  some  reason  you 
wanted  that  money  found  in  that  man's  room.  You 
let  me  alone,  or  I'll  go  back  to  Prestonbury  and  tell 
the  whole  story,  and  you'll  go  to  state's  prison." 

Oren-Toole  was  quick  to  see  the  advantage  the  old 
man  had,  and  in  his  most  persuasive  way  he  replied, 
"  Mr.  Drum,  if  you  hid  that  parcel  in  Bradford  Hor- 
ton's  room,  how  did  you  get  it  again  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  hide  it  in  Bradford  Horton's  room.  I  hid 
it  in  William  Drum's  room.  That  young  man  is  my 
son." 

The  reply  was  too  much  for  Oren-Toole.  In  spite  of 
his  anxiety  he  laughed.  "  He  ?  That  Nancy  boy  your 
son  ?  Quit  your  lying.  If  you  hid  that  parcel  how  did 
you  get  it  again  ?  That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  I'm  not  lying.  He  is  my  son,  and  I  hid  that  parcel. 
I  went  to  Prestonbury  hunting  my  son.  I  wanted  him 
to  take  care  of  me.  You  helped  me  find  him,  though  you 
didn't  know  it.  I  hid  the  parcel  in  a  drawer  in  Will- 
iam's room,  and  was  just  going  out  when  he  came  rush- 
ing in  again.  I  heard  him  coming  and  got  under  his 
bed  before  he  saw  me.  He  stayed  an  awful  long  time, 
and  I  went  to  sleep.  I  must  have  snored  pretty  loud, 
for  the  first  I  knew  he  had  me  by  the  leg  and  dragged 
me  out,  and  abused  me  horribly.  I  saw  right  off  that 
he  was  my  son,  but  he  pretended  not  to  know  me.  He 
was  too  proud  to  know  his  own  father.  He  called  me 
a  thief  and  searched  my  clothes.  I  told  him  I  was  no 
thief  and  had  only  come  to  hide  a  surprise  present  for 
him.  He  made  me  pull  it  out  of  the  drawer,  and  he 
crammed  it  into  my  pocket  and  told  me  I  could  have  it. 
At  midnight  he  shipped  me  off  to  New  York,  just  as  if 
I  was  a  hog  and  not  his  father.  I  didn't  know  what 
was  in  that  package,  and  William  didn't ;  but  you  did." 


100  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  Never  mind  what  I  knew,  or  didn't  know.  Hera 
we  are  at  the  Albemarle.  You  get  your  money.  Then 
we'll  go  to  iny  room  at  the  Delavan  for  a  talk/' 

The  old  man  received  his  money  and  counted  it  care- 
fully. Oren-Toole  watched  the  operation  closely  and 
his  practiced  eye  saw  that  but  eighteen  hundred  re- 
mained. He  knew  now  that  the  old  man  had  taken 
out  the  missing  amount  before  going  on  his  big  spree. 

Arrived  at  the  Delavan,  he  locked  the  door  of  his 
room  and  once  more  began  to  bluster.  "  Now,  Drum- 
Horton,  or  Horton-Drum,  or  whoever  you  are,  I've  got 
you.  Send  me  to  prison,  will  you  ?  Go  back  to  Pres- 
tonbury,  will  you  ?  Charge  me  with  robbery,  will  you  ? 
Where's  the  cash  you  took  out  of  that  parcel  ?  " 

"I  didn't  take " 

"  Stop  your  lying.  You  did.  While  you  were  count- 
ing it  I  was  using  my  eyes.  I  haven't  been  a  bank  teller 
for  years  for  nothing.  You're  going  to  Prestonbury 
as  you  said,  but  you're  going  with  me,  and  you're  going 
to  do  there  just  as  I  tell  you  or  I'll  land  you  in  state's 
prison  for  stealing.  That's  what  you  did.  When  you 
found  that  package  contained  money  you  should  have 
said,  '  That  fellow  made  a  mistake  and  gave  me  the 
wrong  package,  and  I'll  go  back  to  Prestonbury  and 
give  it  to  him.'  Instead  you  stole  two  hundred  dol- 
lars and  went  on  a  spree." 

"  How  did  you  know  I  went  on  a  spree  ?  " 

"  In  the  morning  after  I  hired  you  to  do  the  job  for 
the  girl  I  found  I  had  given  you  the  wrong  package. 
You  hadn't  come  back  for  your  ten  dollars,  though  I 
waited  under  that  tree  a  good  long  time.  When  I 
found  my  mistake  I  naturally  concluded  you'd  found 
it,  too,  and  made  off.  I  told  the  bank  officials  of  what 
I'd  done,  and  my  error,  and  they  put  a  detective  on 


THE  SNARE  SET  AGAIN  101 

the  case  who  located  you  right  away.  Now  hand 
over." 

Andrew  Drum  laughed.  "  See  here,  my  friend,"  h« 
chuckled,  "  I  may  be  old,  but  I'm  not  a  fool.  It's  you 
that's  been  doing  the  lying." 

Then,  growing  more  serious,  "  You  didn't  make  any 
mistake.  You  haven't  been  a  bank  teller,  as  you  say, 
for  years  without  knowing  when  you  give  away  money. 
Girls  don't  do  up  handkerchiefs  in  brown  paper  wrap- 
pers. You  meant  to  ruin  my  son.  I  don't  know  why. 
You  thought  you'd  played  a  winning  card,  but  my  son 
held  a  better  hand.  Now  you're  in  a  hole  of  some  kind. 
I  don't  know  your  name,  but  I  know  your  game.  I've 
not  been  a  lawyer  forty  years  for  nothing." 

Oren-Toole  saw  he  had  miscalculated  the  man  he  was 
dealing  with.  "You're  smarter  than  I  thought  you 
were,"  he  said.  "  I  did  mean  to  ruin  your  son,  as  you 
call  him,  and  I  mean  to  yet,  and  you're  going  to  help. 
We're  going  to  hide  the  money  that's  left  in  his  room 
to-morrow  night." 

"  But  I  can't  help  to  ruin  my  son." 

"  Pretty  son  !  Shipped  you  off  like  a  hog,  you  said 
yourself.  If  I  were  his  father  I'd  get  even  with  him." 

The  old  man  weakened  as  his  sense  of  ill  treatment 
reawakened.  "  We  can't  hide  the  money  without  get- 
ting caught  again,"  he  objected,  but  less  firmly. 

Oren-Toole,  for  answer,  pulled  an  Albany  morning 
paper  from  his  pocket,  and  watched  the  other's  face  as 
he  read  the  announcement  that  Bradford  Horton,  a 
new  and  distinguished  American  tenor,  would  sing  on 
Thursday  night  in  Tweddle  Hall  in  the  oratorio  of  "  The 
Messiah."  "  See  ? "  he  inquired  as  the  old  man  laid 
down  the  paper.  "It's  dead  easy.  He'll  be  here; 
we'll  be  there." 


102  BKADFORD  HOKTON:  MAN 

"But  that  will  send  William  to  state's  prison.  I 
can't  help  send  my  son  to  state's  prison." 

"  Back  there  again,  eh  ?  All  right,  old  Andy.  One  of 
us  three  goes.  No  court  will  believe  you  or  him  against 
me.  I  can  send  you  there,  and  will,  if  you  don't  send 
him  there." 

The  poor  old  man  hesitated.  His  memory  ran  over 
his  bitter  disappointment  in  his  son,  and  the  brutality 
which  he  had  suffered,  and  his  wrath  flamed  up  once 
more.  "  Pretty  son !  "  he  muttered.  "  You're  right. 
He  wouldn't  have  cared  if  I'd  gone  to  the  devil.  I'll 
do  it." 

That  night  the  two  conspirators  went  to  Preston- 
bury. 

Oren-Toole  did  not  report  at  the  bank  until  Friday 
morning,  but  with  the  old  man  went  to  a  little  house 
on  a  back  street  to  which  the  bank  teller  had  moved 
his  mother  when  his  father  died.  On  Thursday  night 
the  two  rascals  hid  the  money  under  a  floor  board  in 
Horton's  room.  His  report  to  Mr.  Elmore  was  inter- 
esting. 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  brought  Drum  to  Prestonbury." 

"  Good  ! "  said  Mr.  Elmore.  "  Did  he  have  the 
money  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  never  had  it.  But  he  knew  where  it  was 
three  months  ago." 

"Where?" 

"  He  says  it  was  hidden  in  Mr.  Horton's  room." 

"  Strange  the  police  didn't  find  it.  I  wonder  if  it's 
there  now." 

"  Drum  says  he  can  find  it,  if  Horton  has  not  sent  it 
away." 

The  police  found  the  money,  of  course,  under  Drum'i 
guidance,  but  nothing  more  could  be  done  until  HOT- 


THE  SNAKE  SET  AGAIN  103 

;on's  return  to  the  city.    Mr.  Elmore  was  angry  and 
lad  ;  Oren-Toole  happy  and  satisfied. 


On  the  Thursday  that  the  two  conspirators  spent  in 
hiding,  Horton  and  Sleighton  went  to  Albany.  The 
train  from  Prestonbury  was  unusually  full.  Horton 
took  a  vacant  half  seat  at  the  front  end  of  the  car,  and 
near  the  rear  Sleighton  found  Miss  Elmore  alone.  She 
recognized  the  organist  and  spoke.  "  There  are  no  va- 
cant places,  Mr.  Sleighton,  but  you're  welcome  to  a  seat 
by  me." 

"Only  too  happy,  I  assure  you."  He  helped  her 
move  her  belongings  and  took  the  seat. 

"  I  saw  by  the  paper  Tuesday  that  Mr.  Horton  is  to 
sing  in  Albany  to-night.  Do  you  go  to  play  his  encore 
accompaniment  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     I  am  his  guest,  that's  all." 

"  Then  he's  on  this  train  ?  " 

"  Yes,  up  yonder." 

"  We  Prestonbury  people  will  feel  proud  to  have  one 
of  our  singers  appear  at  the  state  capital." 

"  I  suppose  you  must.     "Well,  he  certainly  can  sing." 

"  Do  you  remember  my  musicale  ?  I  gave  that  on 
purpose  to  have  him  sing  at  it,  and  he  wouldn't  come." 

"  I  remember.  It  was  lucky  enough  for  Horton  that 
he  didn't  go.  That  was  the  night  of  the  bank  robbery, 
and  if  he'd  been  at  your  musicale  he'd  be  in  prison  now." 

The  girl  looked  puzzled. 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  Sleighton  explained,  "  about 
the  old  man  who  said  he'd  hidden  a  surprise  in  Hor- 
ton's  room  ?  " 

She  assented. 

"WelL,  that  parcel  probably  contained  th«  bank 


104:  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

money.  Had  Horton  gone  to  your  house  the  old  man 
would  have  gone  away  undiscovered,  and  the  police, 
when  they  searched,  would  have  found  the  money  in 
Horton's  room.  He  couldn't  have  proved  that  he  didn't 
steal  it." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  girl  thoughtfully.  "  Who  gave  the 
old  man  the  money  ?  " 

"  We  don't  know." 

The  train  was  stopping  at  a  way  station,  and  two 
men  left  the  seat  opposite,  which  in  a  moment  was  pre- 
empted by  the  alert  Sleighton,  who  deposited  his  over- 
coat and  bag  there.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll 
go  after  Horton." 

Presently  they  returned  together.  Eleanor  was  deep 
in  a  magazine  and  did  not  see  them,  nor  did  Horton 
make  any  sign  that  he  saw  her.  He  knew  his  friend 
had  trapped  him,  and  was  both  annoyed  and  pleased. 
As  he  took  the  inside  end  of  the  vacant  seat  Eleanor, 
looking  up,  noticed  Sleighton. 

"  Oh,  you've  come  back,  have  you  ?  "  she  said  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  you  bring  Mr.  Horton,  as  you  said  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  shall  I  present  him  ?  " 

Bradford  heard  the  whole  comedy,  and  was  surprised 
that  Sleighton  could  manage  the  stage  play  so  well. 
Rising  for  the  introduction,  they  stood  in  the  aisle  talk- 
ing for  the  few  minutes  that  remained  before  the  whistle 
sounded  for  Prestonbury  Junction. 

Mr.  Tappan,  Jack's  father,  passed.  "Off  again,  I 
see,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.  Tell  daddy  you  saw  me  at  the  junction,  all 
safe." 

"  All  right.     I'll  see  him  to-morrow." 


THE  SNARE  SET  AGAIN  105 

At  the  junction  Miss  Elmore  changed  from  the  coach 
to  the  parlour  car  on  the  main  line  train.  Horton  car- 
ried her  wraps  and  bag  to  the  porter  and  said  good-bye. 
Seated  once  more  in  their  own  car,  he  said,  "  Austin,  I 
didn't  think  that  of  you.  Sharp  trick  you  played,  but 
you  can't  do  it  again.  I'll  see  that  girl  no  more." 

Sleigh  ton  made  no  answer  except  by  a  laugh,  and 
they  sat  silent  for  ten  minutes.  Suddenly,  as  if  forget- 
ful of  Sleighton's  presence,  his  friend  broke  out: 

"  Oh,  Antigone,  Antigone  !  why  couldn't  you  have 
stayed  dead?  You  worked  mischief  enough  with 
men's  hearts  long  ago.  Why  do  you  at  this  late  day 
come  after  mine  ?  " 

"  After  yours,  you  idiot  ?  "  Sleighton  laughed  till  his 
sides  ached.  "  She  doesn't  want  your  heart,  man.  All 
she  wants  is  to  hear  you  sing." 

Some  hours  later  in  the  office  of  the  Albemarle  the 
clerk  looked  at  Horton's  signature,  then  eyed  him 
sharply.  "  You've  just  missed  your  father,  Mr.  Hor- 
ton," he  said ;  "  at  least  I  suppose  it  was  your  father. 
He  was  here  yesterday." 

"  My  father  ?    What  makes  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  his  name.  Same  as  yours,  exactly.  He 
registered  here  about  three  months  ago.  He  had  a  lot 
of  money,  which  he  left  with  us  for  safe-keeping.  He 
went  out  one  Saturday  morning  and  we  didn't  see  him 
again  until  he  and  a  young  fellow  came  in  yesterday 
and  took  the  money." 

"  What  sort  of  looking  young  fellow  ?  " 

"  Fine-looking,  tall,  well-dressed,  red-headed  Irish- 
man." 

The  clerk  turned  the  register  pages  and  showed  Hor- 
ton the  signature.  Bradford  scanned  it  and  turned  to 
his  friend. 


10«  BBADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  A.  S.,"  he  said,  in  an  undertone,  "  here's  a  great  go. 
My  father  and  Oren-Toole  were  here  yesterday.  Let's 
go  up-stairs." 

Comfortably  settled  in  their  room,  they  sat  down  to 
consider  this  latest  development.  "  I've  thought  it  all 
out,"  said  Bradford.  "  That  precious  pair  have  gone  to 
Prestonbury,  and  taken  the  money  with  them.  They'll 
hide  it  in  my  room  to-night,  and  I'll  be  arrested  as  I 
step  off  the  train  to-morrow.  Oren-Toole  thinks  he 
has  me  this  time.  Why  he's  playing  the  game  I  don't 
see,  and  how  he  knew  the  whereabouts  and  movements 
of  my  father  I  don't  know,  but,  anyhow,  I'll  beat  him 
to  a  finish.  Oh,  Austin,  when  a  fellow  starts  in  with- 
out experience  to  be  a  knave  there's  no  fool  under  the 
canopy  that  can  match  him  for  a  fool.  That  stolen 
money  was  in  the  safe  in  this  hotel  from  the  day  after 
we  packed  my  father  off  until  yesterday,  when  my  fa- 
ther and  Oren-Toole  came  and  took  it  away.  Oren- 
Toole's  smart,  mighty  smart.  But  sometimes  luck  beats 
brains." 

Everything  happened  as  Bradford  predicted.  The 
warrant  for  his  arrest  sworn  out  by  Mr.  Elmore  was 
served,  and  the  young  man  spent  Friday  night  in  a  cell 
in  the  city  prison.  At  the  hearing  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing Ansley  Jickers  asked  adjournment  until  the  next 
Wednesday,  that  he  might  have  the  case  of  his  client 
properly  prepared.  There  was  no  objection  urged  by 
the  city  attorney  and  the  request  was  granted.  Dr. 
Jickers  became  Horton's  bail. 

Andrew  Drum's  testimony  at  the  hearing  was  a 
singular  tissue  of  truth  and  falsehood.  He  described 
his  visit  to  his  son  William,  otherwise  known  as  Brad- 
ford Horton.  He  told  how  on  entering  his  son's  room, 
having  gone  without  previous  announcement  in  order 


THE  SNAKE  SET  AGAIN  10T 

to  surprise  his  boy,  he  had  found  him  on  his  knees  over 
a  hole  in  the  floor  into  which  he  was  putting  a  paper 
parcel.  The  description  of  his  son's  treatment  of  him, 
and  of  his  starting  him  back  to  New  York,  whence  he 
had  come,  followed.  He  narrated  how  he  had  been 
left  by  the  train,  while  he  was  at  his  breakfast  in  the 
station  in  Albany ;  how  on  the  street  he  had  been 
knocked  down  by  a  cart  and  suffered  a  bad  fracture 
of  the  leg,  and  how  he  had  been  carried  to  the  hospital, 
where  he  had  been  ever  since. 

The  old  man  described  his  meeting  in  Prestonbury 
with  Oren-Toole,  who  had  given  him  his  dinner  and 
directed  how  and  where  to  find  the  seminary.  After 
leaving  the  hospital  he  had  by  accident  met  Oren-Toole, 
who  recognized  him  and  told  him  about  the  robbery  on 
the  very  night  he  had  been  in  his  son's  room  ;  that  his 
son  had  been  arrested  and  examined  for  having  stolen 
the  money. 

"Mr.  Oren-Toole  told  me,"  he  asserted,  "that  my  son 
had  testified  that  I  had  a  thick  paper  package  in  my 
pocket  when  I  visited  him,  and  that  the  belief  in  Pres- 
tonbury was  that  I  took  the  money  from  the  bank.  He 
told  me  he  was  going  to  have  me  arrested  for  robbery 
and  tried  in  Prestonbury.  So  I  told  him  how  I'd  seen 
my  son  hide  a  parcel  under  the  floor.  Then  he  said  my 
son  must  be  the  thief,  and  he  would  take  me  back  to 
Prestonbury  to  show  the  police  where  I  saw  him  hid« 
it." 

Ansley  Jickers  conducted  the  cross-examination.  At 
its  close  no  one  in  the  magistrate's  office  believed  a  word 
of  the  old  man's  testimony,  save  that  he  had  previously 
been  in  Prestonbury  and  that  his  name  was  Andrew 
Drum.  One  person,  however,  was  fully  convinced  that 
Bradford  Horton  was  the  son  of  Andrew  Drum,  and 


108  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

that  Ms  name,  as  the  old  man  said,  was  William.  That 
person  was  Richard  P.  Elmore. 

But  Ansley  Jickers  had  not  finished  his  case.  He 
called  to  the  stand  Edward  Barnes,  the  room  clerk  of 
the  Albemaiie.  At  this  old  Andrew  turned  deadly 
pale.  He  was  a  lawyer  ;  he  saw  what  was  coming  and 
knew  what  the  end  would  be  for  him. 

The  hotel  clerk  told  his  story,  and  at  its  end  the 
magistrate  in  high  dudgeon  stopped  the  case.  "  The 
prosecution  has  not  so  much  as  a  peg  on  which  to  hang 
a  shred  of  a  case,"  he  declared.  "  It  is  a  case  of  mali- 
cious persecution.  This  witness,  Andrew  Drum,  is  a 
perjurer,  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  an  unscrupulous  person. 
That  money  was  hidden  under  the  floor  of  Mr.  Horton's 
room  by  the  conspirators  the  night  he  sang  in  Albany. 
I  order  the  discharge  of  the  prisoner  and  the  arrest  of 
Andrew  Drum  for  perjury  and  of  Oren-Toole  for  rob- 
bery." 

The  order  of  the  magistrate  made  a  great  sensation. 
Mr.  Elmore,  his  face  as  hard  as  a  stone,  walked  hastily 
out  of  court.  The  old  man,  in  terrible  excitement,  rose. 
"  Your  honour,"  he  cried,  "  your  honour,  your  honour, 

I "  but  no  more  words  would  come.  The  nearest 

spectators  saw  his  lips  move  in  a  struggle  for  utter- 
ance, saw  him  throw  his  hands  high  ;  then  a  wild  cry 
sounded  through  the  court-room.  "  Oh,  my  God  !  This 
in  Prestonbury,  in  Prestonbury,  where  I " 

That  was  all.  He  fell  fainting  to  the  floor,  and  they 
carried  him  to  a  couch  in  the  magistrate's  room.  A 
doctor  restored  him  to  consciousness,  but  ordered  his 
removal  to  the  city  hospital.  He  was  in  a  high  fever 
before  morning,  and  delirious,  and  the  hospital  surgeon 
reported  to  the  authorities  that  a  violent  attack  of 
pneumonia  had  developed. 


THE  SNARE  SET  AGAIN  109 

When  the  officers  made  search  for  Oren-Toole  he  had 
vanished.  Before  the  lawyer  had  finished  the  cross- 
examination  he  had  seen  how  the  case  was  going,  and 
he  also  saw  the  clerk  of  the  Albemarle  waiting  to  be 
called.  Without  delay,  and  very  quietly,  he  had  slipped 
out  of  the  room  unnoticed,  and  Prestonbury  saw  him 
no  more  for  many  days. 

Maxwell  had  followed  Mr.  Elmore  from  the  city  hall, 
and  they  walked  to  the  bank  together.  Neither  spoke 
for  some  time,  but  the  silence  worried  the  president 
and  he  broke  it  at  last : 

"  Well,  Sam,  we've  lost  the  teller.  He  did  take  that 
monev  after  all.  The  student  told  the  truth  about  that 

«/ 

night  in  his  room  with  the  old  man,  and  Oren-Toole 
lied  to  me  abominably.  I'd  like  to  have  the  student 
and  the  teller  and  the  old  man  all  in  one  bag,  tied  fast, 
and  sunk  in  the  sea." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't !  Horton's  done  nothing 
wrong." 

"  Only  lied  to  me  about  himself  and  his  family.  He's 
the  son  of  this  old  vagrant.  His  name  is  Drum,  Will- 
iam Drum,  and  he  told  me  he  was  Henry  Horton's  son. 
He's  not  a  thief  so  far  as  I  know,  but  he's  a  liar,  and 
liars  and  thieves  go  to  the  same  hell." 

"  I  think  you're  mistaken,  Mr.  Elmore.  I  don't  be- 
lieve his  name  is  William  Drum,  any  more  than  I  think 
the  old  man's  name  is  Andrew  Drum." 

"  You  don't  ?  Wait  till  the  old  scapegrace  is  tried. 
The  county  judge  will  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  busi- 
ness. But  what'll  we  do  for  a  teller  ?  " 

"  Offer  the  place  to  Horton.  He's  competent  and 
honest." 

"  Sam,  are  you  crazy  ?  " 


XI 
FILIAL  DUTY  OVERCOMES 

ANDREW  DRUM'S  trial  was  to  be  before  afar 
different  tribunal  from  that  over  which  the 
county  judge  of  Preston  County  presided.  The 
officers  of  the  earthly  court  had  arrested  him,  but  those 
of  a  Superior  Court  had  also  laid  their  hands  upon 
him.  For  two  weeks  he  struggled  vainly  to  escape  the 
hand  of  death. 

Bradford  Horton  ministered  to  him  in  all  kindness, 
but  made  no  disclosure  as  to  the  antecedents  of  the  dy- 
ing man,  simply  asking  permission  from  the  hospital 
authorities  to  visit  him  as  often  as  was  possible.  The 
general  belief,  however,  was  that  they  were  father  and 
son,  and  that  the  real  name  of  the  young  man  was 
Drum,  though  for  some  reason  no  one  ventured  to  ad- 
dress him  so.  There  was  something  about  him  that 
made  people  respect  the  name  by  which  he  had  in- 
troduced himself  to  Prestonbury. 

From  his  father's  lips,  in  the  intervals  when  he  was 
free  from  pain,  Bradford  learned  the  story  of  that  part 
of  his  life  of  which  he  knew  nothing.  In  the  narrative 
of  the  years  that  had  passed  since  he  had  last  seen  him 
he  found  a  new  assurance  of  the  power  of  temptation. 

"  But  how  did  you  happen  to  come  to  Prestonbury, 
father  ?  "  he  asked  one  day.  "  How  did  you  know  that 
I  was  here  ?  " 

"  I  always  had  the  Glencoe  paper,"  the  old  man 

110 


FILIAL  DUTY  OVERCOMES  111 

answered  feebly.  "  I  always  looked  it  through  each 
week  for  anything  that  might  be  in  it  about  you.  I 
wanted  you  to  succeed,  Bradford,  though  I  had  failed 
so." 

Bradford  winced.  The  pathos  of  the  words  struck 
him  like  a  knife  as  he  remembered  how  he  had  received 
the  man  who  had  thus  wished  him  well.  "  You  said 
you'd  stopped  drinking,"  he  went  on  presently.  "  How 
was  that  ?  " 

"  It's  quite  a  long  story,"  the  weak  voice  began.  "  I 
used  to  hang  around  the  law  buildings,  you  know,  to 
pick  up  odd  jobs.  I  had  to  borrow  a  good  deal,  law 
blanks  and  such  things,  from  men  I'd  known  when  I 
was  practicing.  Well,  I  did  it  once  too  often.  The 
man  I  tried  to  borrow  from  took  me  by  the  collar  and 
threw  me  out." 

He  paused  for  breath,  lay  still  a  moment,  then  went 
on.  "  The  jar  shook  me  up  considerably,  and  I  lay 
there  on  the  floor  in  the  corridor  till  a  nice  young 
lawyer  opened  his  door  at  the  noise  and  came  and 
picked  me  up.  He  took  me  into  his  office  and  brushed 
me  off  and  let  me  sit  down  and  rest,  and  when  I  got 
over  the  jar,  asked  what  the  row  was  and  what  he  could 
do  to  help  me.  He  was  the  most  kind-hearted  young 
fellow  I've  met  in  many  a  day." 

Again  came  that  thrust  of  the  knife.  The  contrast 
of  his  own  treatment  of  the  broken  old  wreck  was  too 
condemning  for  the  son  to  endure. 

"  He  treated  me  white,"  the  husky  voice  struggled 
along.  "  He  was  sorry  for  me,  I  suppose.  He  hunted 
up  the  man  I  was  to  draw  the  will  for  and  did  the  work 
for  me,  and  then  he  wanted  me  to  promise  I'd  get  out 
of  the  city  and  go  to  my  friends.  I  said  I  hadn't  any, 
only  one  son,  and  he  was  studying  for  the  ministry  and 


112  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

would  be  ashamed  of  me.  He  said  you  wouldn't,  and 
he  seemed  so  sure  of  it  that  I  gathered  up  courage  to 
come  here  to  find  you.  He  saw  me  off  on  the  train. 
I  promised  him  I  wouldn't  drink  any  more — that's  why 
I  said  I'd  reformed.  He  was  a  good  friend  to  me.  I 
wish  you'd  write  some  day  and  thank  him  for  all  he  did 
for  me,  Horton." 

Almost  choked  with  the  sob  in  his  throat,  Bradford 
promised.  His  father  lay  still  for  many  minutes,  rest- 
ing after  the  effort  of  the  long  story  he  had  told.  Then, 
bracing  himself  for  a  final  word,  "  Bradford,  you  know 

that  Mr.  Elmore  ? — the  one  I  saw  in  court  the  day " 

He  did  not  go  on,  and  Bradford  assented  silently. 
"  Did  you  know  he  was  almost  the  same  as  brother  to 
your  mother  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Bradford  in  surprise.  "  I  knew  she  came 
from  Prestonbury,  but  that  was  all  I'd  ever  been  told." 

"  Why,  his  father  married  for  his  second  wife  Laura's 
mother,  so  they  weren't  really  any  relation,  but  they 
grew  up  in  the  same  house.  They  didn't  want  her  to 
marry  me — I  can  hardly  blame  them,  after  all  that's 
happened.  They  refused  all  communication  with  her 
— I  don't  think  they  even  knew  of  your  birth  and  her 
death,  and  she  was  too  proud  to  ever  write  to  them. 
She  was  bound  to  have  her  own  way.  She  loved  me, 
and  I  loved  her — and  I  showed  it,"  he  added  bitterly, 
"  by  squandering  all  her  mother's  money  that  was  left 
her.  But  oh,  in  spite  of  it  all,  I  did  care  !  " 

Under  the  pillow  his  shaking  hand  groped  feebly  for 
something.  Bradford  drew  out  for  him  the  package  of 
yellowed  letters  tied  with  faded  ribbon.  He  clasped  it 
tightly  and  a  smile  broke  over  his  face. 

"  Laura's  letters,"  he  said  faintly.  "  I  loved " 

the  voice  trailed  away  into  silence,  from  henceforth  to 


FILIAL  DUTY  OVEKCOMES  11* 

be  unbroken.  The  unconsciousness  into  which  he  sank, 
worn  out  with  life  and  struggle,  was  never  lifted  until 
the  end  came. 

Bradford  buried  his  father  in  Mount  Logan  Cemetery, 
and  with  him  the  letters  left  him  by  the  wife  of  his 
youth.  The  tragedy  of  the  old  man's  life  was  over ;  the 
young  man  still  remained  a  living  part  of  the  life  of 
every  day.  But  where  was  the  other  actor  in  the 
drama  upon  which  the  curtain  seemed  to  have  fallen  ? 
Oren-Toole  had  vanished  as  completely  as  if  he  had  left 
the  planet. 

Horton,  who  at  intervals  all  through  that  fall  and 
winter  had  been  acting  as  assistant  bookkeeper  at  the 
bank,  remained  in  that  capacity,  at  Maxwell's  request, 
after  the  departure  of  Oren-Toole.  It  made  a  strenuous 
life  for  him,  but  by  wise  use  of  overtime  he  met  the  de- 
mand. It  was  thus  he  overheard  the  president  and 
cashier  talking  one  day  in  a  manner  to  make  him  think 
they  were  contemplating  an  effort  to  find  and  bring  to 
justice  the  man  who  had  robbed  the  bank.  Before  he 
left  his  work  he  asked  to  see  Mr.  Maxwell  alone. 

"  You  have  been  very  considerate  of  my  feelings,  Mr. 
Maxwell,"  he  began,  "  and  I  appreciate  it  fully.  But  I 
want  to  presume  on  your  kindness  now  once  more." 

"  Mr.  Horton,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  anything  you 
can  do  or  say  will  be  presuming.  "What  have  you  on 
your  mind  ?  " 

"  The  bank  lost  a  large  sum  by  the  robbery.  Fortu- 
nately most  of  it  has  been  recovered.  Now,  please  do 
not  follow  Mr.  Oren-Toole  with  prosecution,  nor  at- 
tempt to  find  him.  I  will  refund  the  two  hundred." 

The  expression  on  Maxwell's  face  was  a  study  for  an 
artist — an  expression  of  mingled  astonishment,  wonder 
and  suspicion.  Could  it  be  that  this  transparent  look- 


114:  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

ing  young  man  was  after  all  playing  a  game  deeper 
than  any  of  them  had  suspected  ? 

"  Why  not  follow  him  ?  "  he  inquired  after  a  little 
interval. 

"  Because  he  never  meant  to  be  a  thief.  He  only  in- 
tended to  make  it  appear  that  I  was  one.  He  supposed 
when  he  took  the  money  that  it  would  be  back  in  the 
bank  next  day,  and  it  would  have  been  had  I  attended 
Miss  Elmore's  musicale.  His  second  attempt  was  more 
clever  than  the  first,  and  it  would  have  succeeded  had 
not  the  old  man  registered  with  my  name  when  he 
went  first  to  the  Albemarle.  Don't  try  to  find  him, 
Mr.  Maxwell." 

"  Isn't  this  rather  a  curious  method  with  a  criminal  ?  " 
asked  the  cashier. 

"  He  is  not  a  criminal,  Mr.  Maxwell.  That  is,  not  an 
intentional,  vicious  criminal.  But  find  him,  arrest  him, 
convict  him,  and  you  will  make  him  a  criminal  for  the 
rest  of  his  life." 

"  But  such  a  course  is  wholly  unusual,  Mr.  Horton  ; 
wholly  unusual." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  listen  !  If  you  ever  find  where 
he  is,  notify  him  that  you  know.  Tell  him  you  will 
not  prosecute.  Tell  him  you  understand  how  he  has 
fallen,  but  that  you  mean  to  give  him  a  chance  to  be  a 
man,  and  will  rejoice  to  know  of  his  success.  It's  not 
usual,  I  know,  but  Christianity  is  not  usual,  not  so  very 
usual." 

The  cashier's  look  had  changed  now  to  admiration. 
"  Mr.  Horton,"  he  said,  "  were  I  in  your  place  I  could 
not  make  that  proposition,  but  I  will  lay  it  before  the 
directors." 

The  discussion  in  the  board  of  directors  of  a  motion 
made  by  the  cashier  that  no  attempt  be  made  to  find 


FILIAL  DUTY  OVEKCOMES  115 

or  prosecute  the  absconded  teller  was  long.  When 
Maxwell  was  at  last  asked  what  made  him  bring  so  un- 
usual a  proposition  before  the  board,  he  frankly  acknowl- 
edged that  he  had  not  originated  the  idea,  but  that  it  was 
the  special  request  of  Horton.  Whereupon  Joseph 
Jickers  spoke : 

"  Mr.  President,  I  said  at  our  meeting  four  months 
ago  that  this  Horton  was  a  new  type.  He  is.  I  repeat 
it.  Not  another  man  in  Prestonbury  would  have 
dreamed  of  proposing  such  a  thing.  Old  Professor 
Dragham  says  he  doubts  if  this  man  is  called  to  the 
ministry.  Perhaps  he  is  not.  So  much  the  worse  for 
the  ministry.  But  he  is  called  to  a  straight  out-and-out 
exhibition  of  manhood,  and  he's  answering  the  call. 
Some  people  are  saying  he  is  an  impostor ;  that  his 
name  is  William  Drum.  Well,  let  it  be  ;  William  Drum 
or  Peter  Fife,  I  don't  care.  He's  a  new  type,  and  I 
shall  vote  for  this  motion." 

The  unanimous  decision  of  the  meeting  in  favour  of 
the  resolution  seemed  to  show  that  the  rest  of  the  di- 
rectors were  impressed,  like  Joe  Jickers,  with  the  young 
man's  magnanimity.  At  their  enthusiasm  the  president 
frowned  slightly,  but  as  chairman  of  the  meeting  he 
had  no  vote. 

It  was  about  a  week  after  this  meeting  that  Mr. 
Elmore  wrote  to  Bradford  Horton  a  letter  that  grew 
out  of  a  conversation  between  himself  and  the  cashier. 

"  Sam,"  Mr.  Elmore  had  said,  "  young  Drum  must 
have  been  at  large  expense  in  this  matter  of  his 
father." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  I  would  not 
call  him  Drum  if  I  were  you." 

"  It's  his  name,  Sam.  I  know  what  the  position  of 
the  Horton  family  is — honourable  and  highly  esteemed 


116  BRADFORD  HOETON:  MAN 

in  their  part  of  the  state.  For  this  impostor  to  call 
himself  by  that  honourable  name  is  an  outrage." 

"  There  is  something  wrong  about  all  this,"  answered 
the  cashier.  "  If  we  let  it  alone  it  will  right  itself  by 
and  by.  You  would  better  call  him  Horton.  It  will 
not  hurt  you,  and  it  will  simplify  things." 

"  Sam,  I  tell  you  he  is  an  impostor.  But  this  is  not 
what  I  started  in  to  say. 

"  He  said  he  would  pay  that  two  hundred,  didn't 
he?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  don't  let  him  doit." 

"  You  are  too  late,  Mr.  Elmore.     He  has  paid  it" 

"  What  ?    Paid  that  two  hundred  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  three  months'  interest." 

"  He's  a  mystery  to  me,  Sam.  It  must  have  used  up 
all  his  money.  I  can't  fathom  him." 

"  Perhaps  you  haven't  tried  the  right  sounding 
line." 

"  Are  you  having  any  better  success  ?  " 

"  Yes,  think  I  am.  I  am  going  on  the  basis  that  J.  J. 
is  right,  and  that  he  is  an  entirely  new  type." 

"  Sam,  what  do  you  suppose  that  sickness  and  burial 
cost  ?  " 

"  Probably  a  couple  of  hundred." 

"  And  he  couldn't  get  a  lot  in  Mount  Logan  under 
three  hundred."  The  president  figured  for  a  moment. 
"  He  hasn't  earned  more  than  five  hundred  at  the  out- 
side. Well,  as  Oren-Toole  got  him  into  this  scrape, 
partly,  we're  in  a  measure  responsible.  I'll  send  him 
our  check  for  seven  hundred  dollars." 

Maxwell  remonstrated  earnestly.  "  I  wouldn't  try 
that  if  I  were  you,"  he  urged.  "  You're  longer-headed 
than  that,  generally.  This  affair  seems  to  have  got  on 


FILIAL  DUTY  OVERCOMES  117 

your  nerves.  Don't  try  to  fix  things  up ;  drop  it  alL 
Do  you  remember  that  lamp  story  J.  J.  tells  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  this  is  different,"  Mr.  Elmore  asserted  con- 
fidently. "  Don't  you  worry,  Sam.  It'll  be  all  right." 

But  when  Charlie  Elmore,  going  for  his  lesson  next 
morning,  carried  to  Bradford  a  note  inclosed  in  a  sealed 
envelope  which  bore  no  superscription,  matters  proved 
to  be  far  from  right.  The  message  which  accompanied 
the  check  was  not  long,  but  it  sent  every  particle  of 
colour  from  Horton's  face  and  made  him  flame  within 
with  wrath.  It  read  : 

"  DEAR  SIB  : 

"  Regretting  that  I  was  a  party  to  your  late  ill- 
advised  arrest,  I  write  to  say  the  bank  incloses  its  check 
to  reimburse  you  for  the  expense  it  has  indirectly  caused 
you  in  connection  with  the  death  of  Andrew  Drum. 

"RICHARD  P.  ELMORE. 
"  To  William  Drum." 

"  Charlie,"  said  Bradford,  when  he  could  command 
his  voice,  "  this  needs  an  answer  at  once.  I'll  write  it, 
if  you'll  take  it  back,  and  you  needn't  stay  to  recite 
this  morning." 

The  boy  asked  no  questions.  "With  the  rapidly  writ- 
ten reply  he  hurried  to  the  bank,  where  Mr.  Elmore 
looked  up  in  surprise  at  his  speedy  return. 

"  Back  so  soon  ?  "  he  asked.    "  Is  your  teacher  sick  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  boy,  "  I  think  he's  mad.  "When  he 
read  your  note  his  face  turned  white  as  a  sheet,  then  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  this  note  off  like  lightning,  and 
said  he  couldn't  hear  me  to-day.  What's  the  row, 
grandfather  ?  " 

Ignoring  the  question,  Mr.  Elmore  tore  open  the 
letter. 


118  BBADFOKD  HOETON :  MAN 

"  DEAR  SIR  : 

"  I  regret  that  you  have  made  it  impossible  for 
me  to  teach  your  grandson  longer,  and  I  add,  as  the 
bank  has  caused  me  no  expense,  directly  or  indirectly,  I 
return  the  check. 

"BRADFORD  HORTON. 
«  To  Richard  P.  Elmore." 

In  his  grandfather's  face  the  boy  could  read  anger  as 
hot  as  Horton's  had  been,  and  he  repeated  his  question, 
"  What's  the  row,  grandfather  ?  " 

"  I  shall  have  to  find  you  another  teacher,  Charlie, 
that's  all." 

"But  I  don't  want  any  other  teacher." 

"  It  cannot  be  helped,  boy.  Your  teacher  will  not 
hear  you  any  more." 

"Won't?  Well,  what's  the  row,  grandfather? 
What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  It  is  all  on  my  account,  my  son,  and  you 
would  not  understand  it." 

"  Why  wouldn't  I  understand  ?  " 

"  It  is  too  long  a  story  for  this  morning,  Charlie,  and 
I  am  busy.  Your  teacher  is  an  impostor,  that  is  all  the 
trouble,  and  he  is  angry  at  me  for  knowing  it." 

Then  Charles  Elmore  grew  angry,  but  he  did  not 
dare  to  show  it  before  his  grandfather.  Home  he 
went,  and  poured  out  his  heart  to  his  mother. 

"  It's  too  bad.  It  knocks  me  for  Yale.  If  I  can't  go 
this  fall  with  Elmore  Miller,  I'll  never  go." 

"  Don't  lose  your  head,  my  son.  Mr.  Horton  has  lost 
his,  or  your  grandfather  has  lost  his,  or  they  have  both 
lost  their  heads.  Don't  you  lose  yours.  Just  keep 
cool.  I'll  find  out  something  about  this." 

Meanwhile,  at  the  bank,  the  president  was  having  an 
uncomfortable  time.  Taking  up  the  returned  check, 


FILIAL  DUTY  OVERCOMES  119 

after  he  had  quieted  his  anger  a  little,  he  called  Max- 
well. "  Sam,"  he  said,  "  here's  your  check  back. 
Young  Drum  is  more  fool  than  I  thought.  Throws 
away  good  money  and  stops  the  little  Charlie  brought 
him  in  each  week.  Won't  hear  Charlie  any  more." 

"  I  knew  he'd  do  that.  I  told  you  to  let  well  enough 
alone.  Did  you  call  him  Drum  ?  " 

"  Of  course.    That's  who  he  is." 

"That  may  be,  but  we're  not  called  upon  to  rub 
it  in." 

"  Sam,  are  you  a  fool,  too  ?  I  don't  rub  it  in  by  call- 
ing a  man  by  his  name." 

"  Perhaps  he's  trying  to  escape  from  all  memory  of 
the  name,  and  the  old  reprobate  who  bore  it." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  said  Mr.  Elmore  impatiently.  "  Don't 
sentimentalize  over  a  fellow  who's  assumed  a  name  to 
make  himself  pass  for  something  he  isn't.  Here,  take 
the  check,  and  he  can  debit  and  credit  himself  this 
afternoon." 

Maxwell,  however,  returned  after  a  little  to  say, 
"  Mr.  Horton  will  neither  debit  nor  credit  himself,  Mr. 
Elmore.  He  came  in  just  now,  took  a  few  things  that 
belonged  to  him,  and  has  gone." 

"  Gone  ?    Gone  where  ?  " 

"  Out  of  our  employ." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  Drum  has  left  the  books  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  bade  me  good-bye,  said  he  could  work  here 
no  more,  and  went  out." 

"  Did  he  give  his  reasons  ?  " 

"  No.    I  asked  for  them,  and  he  referred  me  to  you." 

"  Say  anything  about  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Sam,  he  beats  me.  He's  the  queerest  compound  of 
impoitor  and  gentleman  that  I  have  ever  known." 


120  BKADFOKD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  He  certainly  is  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Elmore,  and  I  do 
not  think  he  is  an  impostor." 

"  Sam,  I  know  he  is.  I  tell  you  I  know.  I  can 
prove  it."  "Whereupon  the  first  gentleman  of  Preston- 
bury  walked  out  of  the  bank  in  high  dudgeon,  more 
angry  than  Maxwell  had  ever  seen  him. 

His  troubles  were  not  yet  over.  His  daughter-in-law 
was  awaiting  him  in  the  library  of  his  home.  He  was 
very  fond  of  Caroline  Elmore,  the  widow  of  his  son, 
who  had  died  twelve  years  ago,  and  the  only  sister  of 
Samuel  Maxwell.  A  very  accomplished  musician,  she 
had  been  for  several  years  the  soprano  at  the  "  Old 
Furnace,"  and  there  had  become  greatly  interested  in 
the  young  tenor,  whom,  moreover,  she  had  no  intention 
of  losing  as  teacher  for  her  boy. 

"  Good-morning,  father."  Her  voice  was  soft  and 
clear.  "  You  look  troubled.  Is  anything  wrong  at  the 
bank?" 

"  No,  no.  Nothing  wrong."  The  tone  was  weary. 
Then  suddenly,  speaking  sharply,  he  said,  "  Yes,  every- 
thing's wrong.  Our  bookkeeper  has  left." 

"  What  ?    Has  Mr.  Hobbs  gone  ?  " 

"  No ;  Hobbs  is  teller  now.  That  student  man,  that 
seminary  man.  It  seems  almost  as  if  there  were  no 
other  man  in  the  city." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 

"  No,  I  mean  William  Drum." 

"  Father,  don't  call  Mr.  Horton  that.  He  is  a  splen- 
did man.  Every  one  calls  him  Horton,  and  you  will 
only  attract  unkind  notice.  He " 

The  man  broke  in  almost  fiercely.  "Caroline  El- 
more, he  is  an  impostor.  He  told  me  in  yonder  room 
that  he  was  the  son  of  Henry  Horton  of  Glencoe,  and 
I  know  he  is  not.  I  believed  him  when  he  told  me,  but 


FILIAL  DUTY  OVERCOMES  121 

I  have  learned  positively  that  his  story  was  false,  and 
right  on  the  heels  of  my  discovery  comes  the  testimony 
of  that  old  vagabond,  Andrew  Drum,  that  he  is  his 
son,  and  that  I  believe." 

"  Is  it  worth  while  to  sacrifice  Charlie  to  that  belief, 
father?" 

"  I'll  not  sacrifice  Charlie.  I  can  get  him  a  dozen 
teachers." 

"  But  I  don't  want  a  dozen,  father.     I  want  this  one.'* 

"  llave  you  been  talking  with  Sam  ?  " 

"No." 

"  What  makes  you  so  strenuous  about  this  particular 
man  ?  " 

"  Charlie's  need,  father.  I  have  never  seen  you  so  un- 
fair, so  unkind  before.  Is  it  worth  your  while  to  spend 
your  strength  in  trying  to  discredit  an  almost  friendless 
young  man  ?  I  do  not  know  what  you  wrote  to  him, 
but  it  has  evidently  hurt  him  deeply  to  have  caused  his 
action  of  to-day.  And  you  are  hurting  us  all,  and 
yourself,  more.  Whatever  you  wrote,  recall  it." 

"  I  cannot,  Caroline.  He  is  an  impostor.  He  lied  to 
me,  and  I  cannot  overlook  it." 

"  Not  if  it  destroys  Charlie's  chance  for  Yale  ?  " 

"  It  will  not,  Caroline.  There  are  plenty  of  teachers. 
I  can  find  one.  Money  will  do  anything." 

Caroline  Elmore  gave  it  up  and  went  home  sad- 
hearted.  She  had  never  before  heard  her  father-in-law 
speak  so.  She  did  not  know  of  the  wound  to  his  pride 
from  Rosalie,  which  conspired  with  his  chagrin  at  being 
deceived  in  a  man  he  had  trusted  and  his  fear  because 
of  that  man's  interest  in  his  daughter  to  make  him  both 
unjust  and  unreasonable.  She  saw  only  that  his  temper 
was  most  unlike  himself,  and  not  knowing  the  cause 
she  could  not  understand  it. 


XII 
THE  PEICE  OF  A  KEPT  PEOMISE 

"  T  IT  THAT'S  that  you're  scowling  over,  Brad  ?  " 
%/%/  "  A  note  from  young  Mrs.  Elmore  ask- 
T  v  ing  me  to  call,  and  I  can't  think  how  to 
decline  it  without  making  our  choir  relations  unpleas- 
ant." 

"Well,  don't.  There's  no  need.  She's  no  young 
girl  that  wants  to  marry  you  and  run  away  with  you." 

"Well,  it's  just  as  bad.  She  wants  to  talk  to  me 
about  tutoring  Charlie." 

"  Nothing  the  matter  with  that.    You  do  tutor  him." 

"  No.    I  did.    I  don't  now." 

"  Since  when  ?  " 

"  This  morning." 

"  What's  the  row  ?  " 

Horton  tossed  Mr.  Elmore's  note  over  to  Sleighton, 
and  that  matter-of-fact  young  man  perused  it.  "  Brad- 
ford Horton,"  he  declared,  "  you  are  more  or  less  of  a 
fool.  You  throw  up  five  dollars  a  week  because  a  man 
calls  you  Drum.  He  might  call  me  a  whole  brass 
band." 

"  All  right  for  you,  A.  S.,  but  it  won't  go  for  me. 
I've  left  the  bank  and  I've  sent  back  his  check." 

"You  have?  Well,  you  are  a "  Sleighton 

stopped  suddenly  and  changed  his  tone.  "  I'll  stand  by 
you,  Horton.  Now,  you  go  make  that  call." 

So  he  called.  It  was  of  no  avail.  She  was  very 
earnest,  and  he  very  polite,  but  he  would  not  accede  to 

122 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  KEPT  PROMISE      123 

her  request.  As  he  went  away,  he  was  thinking  with 
pleasure  that  he  could  number  this  very  pleasant  lady 
among  his  friends.  And  she,  at  home,  said  to  Charlie, 
"  "We  will  have  to  find  another  teacher,  dear  boy ;  but 
Mr.  Horton  is  as  fine  a  gentleman  as  I  have  ever 
known." 

Charlie  accepted  the  situation,  but  he  poured  out  his 
soul  in  a  letter  which  his  mother  did  not  see. 

"  DEAE  AUNT  LENNIE  : 

"  You  know  from  the  papers  all  about  Mr.  Hor- 
ton and  Oren-Toole  and  the  old  man  who  carried  off  the 
money.  And  what  do  you  think  ?  Grandfather  be- 
lieves that  the  old  man  told  the  truth  when  he  said  Mr. 
Horton  was  his  son,  and  that  his  name  was  Drum. 
Grandfather  wrote  Mr.  Horton  a  letter  which  I  carried 
when  I  went  to  recite.  I  don't  know  what  was  in  it, 
but  it  made  Mr.  Horton  awful  mad.  He  won't  hear 
me  recite  any  more.  I'll  bet  grandfather  called  him 
Drum  in  that  letter.  Anyway,  my  chance  of  Yale's 
gone,  and  if  I  can't  go  this  fall  I'll  never  go.  So  there ! 
Good-bye. 

"  CHAELIE." 

Not  satisfied,  however,  with  merely  relieving  his  feel- 
ings, and  determined  to  know  what  had  made  the  break, 
the  boy  went  next  morning  over  to  the  Sunset  Hill 
house  and  straight  into  his  grandfather's  office,  where 
without  hesitation  he  blurted  out  the  thought  that  had 
taken  possession  of  him.  "  Say,  grandfather,  did  you 
call  Mr.  Horton  William  Drum  in  that  note  I  carried  ?  " 

The  question  was  unexpected,  and  surprised  Mr. 
Elmore  into  answering  before  he  thought.  "  Yes, 
Charlie.  What  of  it  ?  That's  his  name." 

"  No,  it  ain't,  grandfather !  And  it's  awful  mean  ! " 
He  rushed  out  of  the  room  in  a  rage.  Boylike,  he  went 


124  BRADFORD  HOKTON  :  MAN 

for  his  chum  Elmore  Miller  and  told  him  the  whole 
story.  The  Miller  boy  told  a  Tappan  boy,  and  so  it 
came  about  that  the  Miller  and  Tappan  families  dis- 
cussed the  matter  in  its  various  phases,  and,  as  was 
natural,  took  Mr.  Elmore's  view.  So  the  story  went 
the  round  of  the  select  circle,  and  out  finally  into  a 
wider  one,  and  ere  long  the  name  William  Drum  was 
to  be  heard  quite  commonly  when  people  spoke  of 
Bradford,  though  never  when  they  addressed  him. 

Sleighton  came  in  one  night  from  the  Shakespeare 
Club  and  entered  Horton's  room  in  some  disturbance  of 
mind.  "  Horton,"  he  said  seriously,  "  there's  only  one 
way  for  you  to  end  this  talk  about  you.  You'll  have 
to  come  to  it  sooner  or  later,  and  you'd  better  make  it 
sooner." 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  say." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do  !  You  want  friends.  You  have 
some,  but  you  want  more.  You've  got  to  stop  people 
from  saying  you're  an  impostor.  They'll  believe  it  up 
here  at  the  seminary  pretty  soon,  and  old  Dragham'll 
tell  you  you  haven't  a  call." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,  as  I  said  before." 

"  Yes,  you  do.  You  don't  want  to  leave  Preston- 
bury  ;  anyway,  not  under  a  cloud." 

"  Austin,  what  has  started  you  off  on  this  tack  so  sud- 
denly ?  " 

"  The  Shakespeare  Club." 

"  Oh,  hang  the  Shakespeare  Club ! " 

"  No,  that  won't  do.  I  belong  to  that  club  ;  so  do 
Ansley  Jickers  and  Miss  Lucy,  and  Mrs.  Elmore, 
Charlie's  mother.  You  can't  afford  to  hang  one  of  us." 

"  Well,  what  has  the  Shakespeare  Club  been  saying  ?  " 

"  All  but  those  I  mentioned  that  you  are  an  im- 
postor." 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  KEPT  PROMISE      135 

"  Where  did  such  a  thing  start  ?  " 

"  With  Mr.  Elmore.  He  says  you  deliberately  told 
him  you  were  one  man's  son,  and  it  has  been  clearly 
shown  you  are  the  son  of  another,  to  wit,  of  the  dis- 
reputable old  vagabond  whom  you  nursed  and  buried. 
Says  your  caring  for  him  at  such  expense  goes  to  prove 
it.  Clear  it  up,  Bradford ;  clear  it  up  right  away." 

"  Did  they  say  that  in  the  club  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  did  you  stand  by  and  hear  and  not  contra- 
dict ?  " 

"  How  could  I  contradict  ?  You've  given  me  no 
permission  to  tell  your  story.  I  could  only  say  you 
weren't  any  impostor,  that  I  was  sure  of  it,  and  some 
day  they  would  be." 

"  Good  !    Now  let  it  rest  right  there." 

"  But  it  won't  rest  there.  You've  got  to.  tell  the 
whole  truth." 

"  See  here,  A.  S.,  get  to  my  point  of  view  if  you  can. 
I  can't  tell  that  story  in  Prestonbury.  Just  remember 
that  that  broken  old  vagabond  married  my  mother 
here,  years  ago,  as  he  told  me,  against  the  will  of  her 
family.  On  his  death-bed  he  was  constantly  worrying 
lest  the  town  should  know  who  he  was,  and  identify 
him  with  the  man  they  knew  before.  He  didn't  want 
those  people  who  prophesied  ill  of  him  then  to  know 
how  he'd  fully  justified  their  opposition  to  his  marriage. 
So  I  told  him  in  those  last  days  that  nobody  here 
should  ever  know  from  me  the  truth  about  him. 

"  Austin  Sleighton,  I  mean  to  keep  that  promise. 
My  father's  dead,  you  say,  and  won't  know  the  differ- 
ence ?  I  won't  save  myself  by  smirching  the  character 
of  a  dead  man,  nor  by  breaking  promises  to  the  dead. 
Let  Prestonbury  think  of  him  as  they  used  to  know  him 


126  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

— I'll  say  nothing  to  let  them  know  the  truth.  I 
treated  my  father  like  a  brute  once,  A.  S.,  to  save  my- 
self mortification.  I  won't  do  it  again." 

Sleighton  had  listened,  much  impressed.  "  Brad- 
ford," he  said  soberly,  when  the  breathless  sentences 
ceased,  "  here's  my  last  word.  You  go  to  Mr.  Elmore 
to-morrow  morning  and  tell  him  exactly  what  you  now 
say  to  me.  He'll  believe  every  word  you  say.  He'll 
recall  that  letter  he  wrote.  You'll  go  back  to  the 
bank,  and  Charlie  to  his  Greek.  Mr.  Elmore  will  re- 
instate you  in  public  esteem,  and  life  here  will  be  a 
vastly  diiferent  thing  for  you  from  what  I  fear  it  will 
be  otherwise." 

"  Sleighton,"  was  the  answer,  "  you're  a  good  man, 
and  that  advice  is  good.  But  I  can't  do  it.  It  was  the 
Elmore  family  who  objected  to  my  mother's  marriage. 
No  ;  I've  marked  out  my  way,  and  I  must  walk  it  to  the 
end — the  way  of  loyalty  to  my  own  father." 

Returning  to  his  own  room,  "  That  fellow  has  the 
spirit  of  a  Bayard,"  thought  Sleighton.  "  He'll  lose 
his  friends,  lose  Prestonbury,  lose  that  girl,  just  for 
chivalric  loyalty  to  an  old  reprobate.  Not  smirch  his 
father's  character  ?  "Where  was  his  character  ?  " 


xm 

THE  WEALTH  OF  A  GOOD  NAME 

THAT  winter  was  cold  and  long.  For  seventy 
days  Bradford  tramped  through  the  bitter 
weather  wearing  only  his  ordinary  clothing. 
He  shivered  sometimes,  but  his  heart  was  strong.  The 
spring  was  a  great  joy  to  him.  One  April  evening  after 
a  day  of  warmth  and  brightness  he  sat  with  Sleighton 
on  the  steps  at  the  front  of  Morton  Hall. 

"  I  told  you,  Austin,  that  people  would  forget  the 
Drum  business  after  a  while." 

"I  know  people  do  not  talk  about  it,"  was  the 
answer.  "But  there  are  two  persons  who  have  not 
forgotten  it,  and  will  not." 

"Who?" 

"  You  and  Mr.  Elmore." 

"  Humph ! "  was  Horton's  only  reply,  but  the  silence 
that  followed  was  eloquent.  Horton  spoke  at  last,  but 
not  apparently  about  the  Drum  matter. 

"  I'm  dead  broke,  Austin.  My  capital  last  September 
was  a  half  dollar,  but  though  I've  made  money  this 
year,  I  haven't  a  half  cent  now." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  be  worrying  much." 

"  Well,  what's  the  use  ?  If  God  chooses  to  have  me 
penniless  why  should  I  worry  ?  I  can't  say  I  enjoyed 
paying  my  father's  expenses,  but  God  probably  gave 
me  the  money  for  that  purpose.  Perhaps  He  wanted 
to  see  if  I  was  man  enough  to  meet  the  demand." 

"  Do  you  think  God  was  interested  enough  in  the  old 
127 


128  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

fellow  to  provide  a  way  to  get  him  buried  and  the 
bills  paid?" 

"  Absolutely.  Have  you  forgotten  about  that  spar- 
row that  cannot  fall  ?  " 

"  How  much  did  all  that  cost  you,  Brad  ?  " 

"  Seven  hundred  and  fifty." 

"  You  don't  mean  it  ?    Did  you  have  it  ?  " 

"  Not  all.  But  I've  made  it  since.  That  last  day  at 
St.  Bartholomew's  helped  me  out." 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  dogged  pluck,  Horton." 

"Impossible,  unless  you're  from  the  same  quarry. 
Our  stock  was  English.  No  fibre  in  the  world  more 
tough  than  that."  After  another  interval  of  silence  he 
continued :  "  Austin,  this  matter  of  a  divine  call  is  the 
most  tremendous  thing  in  the  world.  Since  last  Sep- 
tember I've  had  call  after  call  to  honest  independence." 

"Do  you  think  your  stubbornness  about  the  Drum 
episode  was  one  of  God's  calls  ?  "  The  organist  laughed 
as  he  asked  the  question. 

"  Stop  joking,  Austin.  God  called  me  to  resent  in- 
sult, and  I  obeyed.  Now  He  is  calling  me  to  know  the 
worth  of  poverty.  See  that  star  yonder.  He  made  it. 
Think  of  it !  He  who  holds  it  there  keeps  it  swinging 
aeon  after  ason,  never  a  hand's  breadth  out  of  place, 
never  a  second  out  of  time,  and  He  finds  leisure  to 
think  of  me  and  say,  '  Son,  I  want  your  last  penny.' ' 

Sleighton  did  not  answer  at  once.  At  last  he  said, 
"  You  are  a  better  man  than  I  am,  Bradford  ;  a  better 
man.  God  will  call  you  to  something  besides  poverty 
by  and  by,"  and  rising  abruptly  he  went  to  his  room. 

Bradford  sat  on  the  steps  yet  a  few  moments  ere  he, 
too,  went  to  his  evening's  work.  On  his  table  lay  a  let- 
ter which  he  saw  was  from  Samuel  Maxwell.  It  sug- 
gested that  if  Mr.  Horton  would  call  at  the  bank  at  his 


THE  WEALTH  OF  A  GOOD  NAME      129 

convenience  it  would  be  gratifying  to  the  writer. 
Bradford  replied  declining  the  call,  pleading  his  en- 
gagements preparatory  to  the  spring  examinations. 

But  the  cashier  was  not  a  man  to  be  put  off  by  what 
he  knew  was  a  conventional  answer.  In  a  fortnight 
Horton  received  another  letter,  more  urgent  than  the 
first,  naming  a  definite  time  for  the  call.  Bradford's 
reply  was  again  a  refusal,  so  written,  he  thought,  as  to 
end  the  matter.  But  he  was  mistaken. 

One  morning  the  cashier  appeared  at  Bradford's 
door  and  asked  him  to  go  for  a  drive.  Horton  saw 
positive  advantage  in  this  and  accepted.  Maxwell 
went  straight  to  his  business. 

"  I  want  you  back  in  the  bank,  Mr.  Horton." 

"That  is  gratifying.  Men  like  me  enjoy  being 
wanted." 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  take  the  books  for  us  once 
more?" 

"Yes,  I  would." 

"  All  right.  The  seminary  will  close  in  about  four 
weeks,  and  you  will  have  four  months'  vacation.  Now 
for  those  four  months  I'll  give  you  four  hundred  dol- 
lars to  keep  our  books." 

"  Does  Mr.  Elmore  know  about  this  ?  " 

"  No.  He  leaves  such  things  to  me,  but,  of  course, 
I  shall  tell  him  you  are  coming.  He  will  be  pleased. 
He  values  your  services  highly." 

"  My  services  ?  Yes,  as  he  would  those  of  a  wheel- 
barrow! But  a  wheelbarrow  and  its  services  are 
utterly  separate,  and  I  and  mine  cannot  be  separated." 

"But  Mr.  Elmore  makes  no  separation  between  you 
and  your  services.  He  knows,  of  course,  the  handicap 
under  which  you  are  compelled  to  live  here,  but  that  is 
nothing  against  you." 


130  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  Please  drive  me  back  to  the  seminary,  Mr.  Maxwell." 

The  suddenness  of  the  request  startled  Maxwell. 
"  Are  you  ill  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  ill  at  ease.  You  have  made  me  so.  Handi- 
capped ?  I  under  a  handicap  ?  I  understand.  Please 
drive  me  back  to  the  seminary." 

"Don't  be  offended,  Mr.  Horton.  I  meant  no  of- 
fense." 

"  But  I  am  offended,  sir.  In  the  most  matter-of-fact 
way  you  call  in  question  my  integrity.  I  came  here 
saying  I  was  Bradford  Horton.  I  am.  If  I  am  not,  I 
am  an  impostor  and  my  integrity  is  gone.  Your  presi- 
dent believes,  as  I  bitterly  feel,  that  I  am  an  impostor, 
and  he  sows  the  seeds  of  that  belief  broadcast.  They 
have  taken  root  in  your  mind.  I  work  for  a  man,  or  an 
institution,  that  would  take  from  me  both  my  name  and 
my  integrity  ?  Never ! " 

"  But  the  testimony  of  Andrew  Drum " 

"Was  perjury.  So  said  the  magistrate.  Please 
drive  me  back  to  the  seminary." 

"  So  you  refuse  to  work  for  the  bank  on  account 
of  Mr.  Elmore's  attitude?"  As  he  spoke,  Maxwell 
turned  the  horses. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  his  and  yours." 

In  silence  they  finished  the  drive.  The  older  man 
glanced  sidewise  from  time  to  time  at  the  open  face  of 
his  companion,  clear  cut  and  high  bred  even  under  its 
cloud  of  anger.  The  conviction  was  growing  in  his 
liberal  mind  that  it  was  impossible  to  disbelieve  a  man 
whose  character  and  bearing  were  such  evident  proofs 
of  his  truthfulness.  He  must  hold  his  own  opinions, 
regardless  of  Mr.  Elmore. 

As  Horton  stepped  from  the  carriage  Maxwell  offered 
his  hand.  "  Mr,  Horton,  I'm  glad  we've  had  this 


THE  WEALTH  OF  A  GOOD  NAME      131 

drive.  It  has  cleared  the  air  for  me.  I  believe  you. 
You  are  transparently  honest.  May  I  tell  Mr.  Elmore 
about  this  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It  will  do  no  good,  nor  any  harm,  that  I  can 
see." 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Horton.  I  hope  this  will  work  out 
right  by  and  by." 

"  Good-bye." 

As  Maxwell  drove  away  he  thought,  "  He's  poor  and 
proud  and  plucky,  and  he's  honest,  too.  I  must  make 
Mr.  Elmore  see  it."  He  stopped  his  horses  in  front  of 
the  drug  store  and  asked  that  Mr.  Jickers  come  out  for 
a  moment. 

"Joe,  I've  a  job  for  you.  Get  your  'new  type' 
friend  to  take  the  books  at  the  bank  this  summer." 

"  Get  him  yourself,  your  honour." 

"  I  can't.     I've  tried." 

"  Your  honour,  counsel  can't.  No  one  can  get  him  by 
a  mandamus." 

"Joe,  stop  your  nonsense.  I  want  Horton  in  the 
bank." 

"  Since  when  did  your  honour  substitute  Horton  for 
Drum  in  your  honour's  vocabulary  ?  " 

Maxwell  told  the  story  of  the  drive,  and  ended, 
"  Joe,  I  want  that  man.  Will  you  try  to  get  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  I'll  try.  But  don't  pay  him  for  his  work 
before  he  does  it,  your  honour." 

"  Behave  yourself,  Joe.  I'm  in  dead  earnest.  He's 
offended  at  Mr.  Elmore.  For  some  reason  Mr.  Elmore 
is  all  out  with  him.  Sometimes  I  think  it's  because  he's 
afraid  Horton  will  make  love  to  Eleanor.  I  want  you 
to  try  to  get  those  two  men  together." 

"  All  right,  Sam.  I'll  see  Horton,  but  you  must  see 
the  president." 


132  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"All  right." 

That  night  Maxwell  called  on  Mr.  Elmore.  "  Sam,  you 
look  tired,"  was  his  host's  first  remark  after  the  ex- 
change of  salutations.  "  You're  working  too  hard." 

"  I  know  I  am.  You  see,  it's  heavier  with  no  book- 
keeper. I  know  a  good  one,  but  I  can't  get  him." 

"  I  guess  you  can.     Have  you  made  an  offer  ?  " 

"  Offered  him  a  hundred  a  month." 

"  And  he  wouldn't  take  it  ?    He  must  be  a  good  one." 

"  You  know  yourself  he  is.  Now,  don't  get  angry, 
Mr.  Elmore,  but  it's  Bradford  Horton." 

To  Maxwell's  relief,  Mr.  Elmore  showed  no  sign  of 
getting  angry.  "  That's  strange,"  he  said.  "  I've  been 
thinking  about  him  to-day  myself.  Telepathy,  eh  ? 
So  he  won't  work  for  us  ?  " 

"  He  would  but  for  you." 

"  Me  ?    What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Written  him  a  letter  in  which  you  called  him  Will- 
iam Drum." 

"Well,  what's  the  matter  with  that  ?  Why  should 
a  man  refuse  to  work  for  me  because  I  called  him  by  his 
name  ?  " 

"  That's  not  his  name,  Mr.  Elmore.  Recall  that  let- 
ter." 

"  I  can't,  Sam.  His  name  is  not  Horton.  There's 
not  a  drop  of  Horton  blood  in  his  veins,  and  I  can 
prove  it." 

"  Possibly.  But  it's  better  policy  for  you  as  president 
of  the  bank  to  recall  that  letter  and  put  him  at  the 
books  than  to  let  your  knowledge  of  what  there  is  or  is 
not  in  his  veins  keep  him  away  from  us." 

But  in  spite  of  argument  and  plea,  however  sound 
and  strong,  Mr.  Elmore  remained  obstinate,  and  the 
cashier  gave  up  the  effort.  Circumstances,  however, 


THE  WEALTH  OF  A  GOOD  NAME      133 

were  even  then  shaping  to  relieve  Maxwell's  disappoint- 
ment and  secure  his  desires.  For  within  a  week  after 
the  unsatisfactory  interview  between  the  two  bank 
officers  Mr.  Elmore  received  a  letter  from  his  daughter 
which  disturbed  him  more  than  Maxwell's  call. 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER  : 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Charlie  weeks  ago  concern- 
ing which  I  should  have  written  you  ere  now.  Charlie 
wrote  that  his  change  of  tutors  had  not  been  a  success. 
A  more  recent  letter  from  Caroline  is  more  outspoken 
than  Charlie's.  She  says  there  is  no  hope  for  Charlie's 
making  Yale  next  fall.  Now,  daddy,  I  know  what  the 
trouble  is.  The  influence  of  that  mean  Glencoe  woman 
made  you  write  Mr.  Horton  a  meaner  letter.  It  wasn't 
like  you,  daddy,  and  I  want  you  to  recall  it.  Go  apolo- 
gize like  the  gentleman  you  are.  It's  absurd  to  think 
Mr.  llorton's  name  is  Drum.  Don't  be  obstinate  any 
longer,  daddy ;  Charlie's  worth  more  than  a  name. 

"  Ever  your  own, 

"  LENNIE." 

He  showed  the  letter  to  his  wife.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  Emily  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  she's  right,  as  she  is  almost  always.  She's 
too  much  like  you  to  be  wrong  often.  I've  never 
known  you  before  to  be  wrong  so  long." 

"  What  has  set  you  all  against  me,  all  at  once  ?  " 
asked  the  husband  almost  bitterly. 

On  the  next  day  Joseph  Jickers  did  a  thing  unusual 
for  him.  He  hired  a  horse  and  buggy  and  took  Brad- 
ford for  a  drive.  The  road  took  them  out  of  the  city 
to  the  shores  of  Prestonbury's  pride,  the  beautiful  Lake 
Orsina.  They  followed  the  road  along  its  banks  three 
or  four  miles.  Joe  did  not  cease  talking  from  the  mo- 
ment the  drive  began. 


134:  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  See  that  house  yonder  across  the  lake  in  the  bend  ? 
That's  Nick  Moon's.  Great  place  for  chicken  and 
waffles.  Nick's  a  bachelor.  Queer  chap.  Fine  scholar. 
Could  talk  Greek  with  you.  You  ought  to  know  him. 

"  See  that  long  point  up  the  lake  ?  That's  Jake 
Branscombe's.  Finest  point  on  the  lake.  Jake's  a 
Dutchman.  I  expect  a  fellow  could  board  there  for 
the  summer  and  have  a  splendid  time.  "What  you  go- 
ing to  do  this  summer  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet." 

"  Say,  your  honour,  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  Open 
chambers  at  Branscombe's.  Have  your  town  office  in 
Preston  National  Bank.  Row  down  morning,  back 
afternoons.  Couldn't  spend  the  summer  better." 

"  I  don't  want  any  town  office,  J.  J.  "What  are  you 
dreaming  about  ?  " 

"  Counsel's  not  dreaming,  your  honour.  He's  listen- 
ing, and  objects  to  your  honour's  opinion.  Your  honour 
may  not  want  town  office,  but  town  office  wants  him. 
Bank,  you  know.  Maxwell,  you  know." 

Horton  laughed  in  spite  of  himself.  "  Does  counsel 
mean  me  to  understand  that  Samuel  Maxwell  wants  me 
to  keep  books  for  the  Preston  National  Bank  this  sum- 
mer ?  " 

"That  is  a  fair  statement  of  the  case,  your  hon- 
our. Four  hundred  dollars  for  the  summer.  Cost 
you  two  hundred  to  live  on  the  lake.  Two  hundred 
left.  Your  honour  will  be  able  to  buy  another  car- 
bonate   " 

Horton's  roar  of  laughter  cut  short  the  little  man's 
sentence.  "  J.  J.,"  he  said  as  his  laugh  ceased,  "  you 
play  a  good  game.  Maxwell's  not  in  it  with  you.  I'd 
like  to  go  to  the  bank  to  please  you,  but  between  me 
and  the  bank  Mr.  Elmore  has  placed  an  impassable 


THE  WEALTH  OF  A  GOOD  NAME      135 

barrier.     "When  he  removes  it  you  may  take  me  to  drive 
again." 

"  Your  honour  declines  the  proposition  of  counsel  ?  " 

"  Absolutely." 

"  G'lang."  Joe  hit  the  horse  a  savage  clip  with  the 
whip  and  turned  homeward. 

****** 

The  day  after  Mr.  Elmore  had  received  his  daughter's 
letter  Joseph  Jickers  called  at  the  bank,  and  went 
directly  to  the  office  of  the  president. 

"  Well,  your  honour,  what's  the  business  this  morn- 
ing ?  "  asked  Mr.  Elmore. 

"  His  honour  is  not  here  to-day.  This  is  a  business 
call,  Mr.  Elmore." 

"  Well,  what  can  we  do  for  you,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Nothing  for  me  any  more  than  for  yourself  and  all 
of  us." 

Joe  was  so  seldom  serious  that  Mr.  Elmore  was  some- 
what at  a  loss  how  to  take  him.  "  What  is  it  that  con- 
cerns us  all  ?  "  he  asked  again,  with  more  interest. 

"  Sam  Maxwell,"  was  the  reply.  "  We've  lost  our 
teller  ;  we've  thereby  lost  our  bookkeeper,  and  if  things 
go  on  as  they  are  we'll  lose  our  cashier." 

"  I've  thought  of  that  myself,"  replied  the  president. 
"  We've  been  trying  to  get  a  bookkeeper." 

"  We  ?    You  mean  Sam.     He  told  me  about  it." 

"  Is  Sam  complaining  ?  " 

"  No !  You  know  he  never  complains.  He's  been 
bookkeeper  hunting,  and  failed.  Then  he  came  for 
me  to  go  on  the  hunt  and  started  me  after  the  same 
fellow,  and  I  failed.  So  now  it's  time  for  you  to  try, 
Mr.  President,  and  I  recommend  that  you  try  the  same 
man.  You  know  who  he  is.  There's  only  one  com- 
petent man  in  this  city  who  is  at  all  available." 


136  BRADFOKD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  I  understand.  You  want  me  to  go  and  ask  "William 
Drum  to  keep  our  books  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Elmore,  I  don't.  I  want  you  to  call  on 
Bradford  Horton.  I  want  you  to  tell  him  you  recall  the 
letter  you  wrote  him.  I  want  you  to  tell  him  you  are 
prepared  to  call  him  by  his  name." 

"  I  can't  do  that,  Joe.  There's  not  a  drop  of  Horton 
blood  in  his  veins."  It  was  the  same  old  plea. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  President.  "When  Samuel  Maxwell 
dies  have  this  inscription  put  on  his  tombstone :  '  Killed 
by  a  whim  of  the  president  of  the  Preston  National 
Bank.'  Good-morning." 

The  indignant  Joseph  walked  out  of  the  office  with 
the  dignity  of  an  emperor. 

"  I  wonder  who'll  be  the  next,"  said  the  president, 
smiling  even  in  his  annoyance. 


XIV 
GRUDGING  APOLOGIES 

THE  annual  examinations  at  the  seminary  came 
on  apace.  The  attendance  of  trustees  was 
large,  and  Mr.  Elmore,  among  them,  became 
greatly  interested  in  a  sharp  contest  over  some  doc- 
trinal points  in  which  Professor  Dragham  and  Bradford 
Horton  were  the  participants.  The  professor  was  crit- 
ical, rasping,  pugnacious,  evidently  intent  on  discredit- 
ing the  young  student  if  he  possibly  could.  Horton, 
on  the  contrary,  was  steady,  gentle,  urbane,  though 
firm  as  a  rock  for  his  contention.  Mr.  Elmore  was 
struck  at  once  by  the  difference  in  temper  and  spirit  of 
the  two  men,  and  in  spite  of  himself  was  fascinated  by 
the  younger. 

The  discussion  caused  a  marked  difference  of  opinion 
between  the  various  examiners,  some  siding  with  one 
man,  some  with  the  other.  Some  suggested  that  the 
student  be  dismissed  from  the  institution.  Singularly 
enough,  iMr.  Elmore  became  his  defender,  and  saved 
him  from  the  disgrace  that  threatened.  He  had  taken 
no  part  in  the  discussion,  until  extreme  measures  were 
proposed,  when  suddenly  he  declared  his  understanding 
of  the  young  man's  position. 

"  I'm  a  business  man,"  he  said,  "  and  I  can  see  some 
things  you  ministers  can't.  This  young  man  is  as 
anxious  for  the  truth  as  you  are.  What  troubles  you  is 
his  new  way  of  putting  it.  You  expected  the  usual 

137 


138  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

performance,  and  you're  so  astonished  to  find  a  man 
who  thinks  for  himself  that  you're  rattled,  that's  all. 
The  student  is  not.  He  is  a  very  unusual  man.  I 
move  that  the  young  man  be  invited  to  meet  the  com- 
mittee to-morrow  morning,  and  that  he  be  allowed  to 
state  his  views  in  full  without  interruption.  After  that 
you  will  be  better  able  to  decide  in  his  case." 

Only  Professor  Dragham  voted  against  the  motion, 
the  result  of  which  was  satisfactory,  as  Mr.  Elmore  had 
prophesied.  Horton  was  passed  to  his  second  year,  and 
in  addition,  at  the  request  of  the  Greek  professor,  was 
offered  the  position  of  tutor  of  the  Greek  Testament  for 
the  incoming  junior  class  at  a  salary  of  four  hundred 
dollars  for  the  year. 

In  his  comfortable  home  on  Sunset  Hill  the  banker 
thought  over  the  events  of  the  day.  Before  him  in  its 
silver  frame  on  his  desk  stood  the  picture  of  the 
daughter  in  whom  his  whole  soul  was  centred.  "  Len- 
nie,"  he  said  to  her  mentally,  "  Lennie,  I  wish  that  man 
didn't  attract  you  so.  Tou  have  never  said  so,  but  I 
know.  I  have  not  forgotten  the  carnation  at  the  con- 
cert, nor  what  Tappan  told  me  about  your  being  with 
him  in  the  train.  He's  brilliant,  fascinating — I  know 
it.  I  haven't  been  fair  to  him — I  know  that,  too.  But 
I  can't  have  you  falling  in  love  with  him,  Lennie — and 
if  I  were  a  girl,  I  should.  1  see  what's  in  him  plainly 
enough.  If  you  were  only  out  of  the  question,  what 
should  I  care  what  he  calls  himself  ?  His  name  is 
Drum,  but  if  he  wants  to  be  called  Horton,  where's  the 
harm  ?  " 

Then,  with  a  swerving  of  thought  away  from  his 
daughter,  he  showed  plainly  that  he  was  trying  to  argue 
himself  into  a  sense  of  justification  in  what  he  intended 
next  to  do.  "  That  was  a  great  performance  to-day. 


GRUDGING  APOLOGIES  139 

IVe  got  to  have  that  man  for  the  bank  and  for  Charlie. 
There's  only  one  way,  but  I'll  take  it.  He  is  an  im- 
postor, but  I  don't  care.  I'll  get  him." 

The  butler  at  that  moment  admitted  Maxwell. 
u  Hello,  Sam.  You're  in  the  nick  of  time."  He  passed 
the  evening  paper  to  his  caller.  "  I  suppose  you've  read 
that  ?  " 

Maxwell  assented. 

"  Young  Drum  manages  to  keep  himself  in  the  public 
eye,"  said  Mr.  Elmore. 

"  I  think  you  seem  to  want  him  there." 

"  Yes,  he  would  have  been  dropped  but  for  me.  He 
astonished  me.  Somehow  every  time  anything  threatens 
him  he  manages  to  make  it  help  him  to  a  higher  place 
in  public  opinion." 

"  I  think  this  time  it  was  you  that  managed,  not  he. 
I  am  surprised  at  you." 

"  I  don't  wonder.  I  am  myself.  But  he  has  genius, 
in  spite  of  the  old  father." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  was  his  father  ?  " 

"Sure?  Yes."  Then,  abruptly,  "Say,  Sam,  this 
bookkeeper  business  must  be  settled.  Hobbs  leaves 
July  1st,  and  I  sail  soon  after.  I'm  going  to  put  Brad- 
ford Horton  in  as  teller — permanently,  I  mean.  He's 
too  brilliant  for  burial  in  that  seminary." 

"  Who  ?  "  Maxwell  gasped  in  his  astonishment. 

"  Bradford  Horton." 

The  cashier  made  no  response.  The  two  men  smoked 
a  while  in  silence,  each  busy  thinking.  At  last  Mr.  El- 
more  broke  the  silence.  "  Will  you  go  with  me  to  see 
him  to-morrow  morning  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  but  it  will  be  wasted  time." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  However,  if  it  is,  it  won't  be  the 
first  time  we've  wasted.  I'll  call  for  you  at  ten." 


HO  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  All  right."    Maxwell  rose.     "  I  didn't  tell  you  my 
wife  was  in  the  other  room." 
"  No,  is  she  ?    "We'll  go  out." 

All  seated  once  more  in  the  library,  Mrs.  Maxwell 
opened  a  new  topic  of  conversation.  "  Did  you  see 
what  The  Tribune  said  about  our  tenor  ?  " 

"  No.    What  ?  " 

"  You  knew  he  sang  at  St.  Bartholomew's  some  time 
ago  ?  " 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  The  Tribune  says  they've  offered  him  twelve  hun- 
dred a  year." 

"  They  have  sense  in  New  York  ;  they  know  a  good 
thing  when  they  hear  it.  That  young  man  certainly 
can  sing." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  we  must  lose  him.  Our  church 
has  never  had  such  a  tenor  before,  and  never  will  again." 

"  Lose  him  ?  "  Mr.  Elmore  spoke  with  animation. 
"  We  won't  lose  him.  I  shall  keep  him  in  Preston- 
bury." 

"You?"  Mrs.  Maxwell  was  astonished.  "How 
will  you  keep  him  in  Prestonbury  ?  I  thought  there 
was  zero  weather  between  you  two." 

"  Zero  ?  There's  no  zero  in  business.  I'll  keep 
him." 

"  Richard  Elmore,  I  don't  want  you  to  keep  him 
here."  Mrs.  Elmore  spoke  with  decision.  "  He's  too 
handsome,  and  Eleanor's  too  young  and  susceptible.  I 
don't  want  her  falling  in  love  with  any  student  for  the 
ministry." 

They  all  laughed  at  her  vehemence. 

"  Trust  Lennie,  my  dear,"  said  her  husband.  "  She's 
in  no  danger.  She'll  be  out  of  his  sight  for  two  years 


GKUDGING  APOLOGIES 

and  a  half.  "We'll  be  on  the  other  side  of  the  world. 
He'll  marry  Lucy  Jickers  before  that.  Don't  you  be 
afraid." 

As  the  Maxwells  were  taking  their  leave  the  presi- 
dent said,  "  Ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Sam." 

At  a  little  after  ten  o'clock  the  Elmore  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  Morton  Hall.  Horton  opened  his 
door  at  the  knock  of  the  two  bank  officials.  "  Come 
in,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  astonished,  but  too  well  bred 
to  show  it. 

There  ensued  an  awkward  pause.  The  banker  noted 
the  scantiness  of  the  furniture  and  the  general  cheer- 
lessness  of  the  room.  "  I  have  but  two  chairs,"  Hor- 
ton explained,  offering  them,  "  so  if  you  will  pardon 
me  I'll  sit  on  the  table." 

"  I  see  the  authorities  do  not  mean  you  to  have  too 
much  company,  Mr.  Horton,"  said  Mr.  Elmore  with  a 
somewhat  constrained  effort  at  offhand  cordiality. 
"I've  never  had  the  pleasure  of  being  in  your  room 
before.  By  the  way,  I  must  congratulate  you  on  the 
way  you  acquitted  yourself  yesterday." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Bradford  gravely. 

"Do  you  return  to  Glencoe  for  the  vacation,  Mr. 
Horton  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  You  will  remain  here,  then  ?  " 

"No." 

"  I  think  you  would  find  it  pleasant  here  in  summer." 
The  president  was  becoming  more  ill  at  ease  at  the 
repetition  of  monosyllabic  answers.  "  The  lake  is  very 
attractive,  and " 

"  But  I  must  have  work,  and  there  is  none  here  for 
me." 

"  There  is.    That  is  the  reason  of  my  call.    I  have 


142  BRADFORD  HORTON  : 

come  to  offer  you  a  permanent  position  as  teller  of  the 
bank." 

"  Indeed ! "     Bradford  looked  calmly  at  the  president. 

"  Yes.  We  have  concluded  to  make  you  teller  after 
Hobbs  leaves " 

The  door  flew  open  suddenly  and  three  voices  yelled 
together,  "  Oh,  Brad  !  you  old  Brad,  you've  scooped  the 
shiner ;  you've  gobbled  the  yellow  boy,  you've  — — ' 
then  seeing  the  visitors  and  filled  with  confusion,  the 
young  men  slammed  the  door  and  were  gone. 

"  What  did  those  fellows  mean  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Elmore. 

Bradford  smiled.  "  I  suppose  they  were  telling  me  I 
had  won  the  gold  medal  for  Greek." 

"  That  was  good  news,  wasn't  it  ?  I  wish  I  was  a 
boy  again.  I  would  like  to  tell  some  one  something  in 
just  such  a  way.  Well,  I  suppose  now  you  will  be 
ready  to  begin  work  to-morrow." 

"  Pardon  me.  I  have  no  present  thought  of  working 
for  the  bank  to-morrow  or  any  other  day.  The  causes 
which  made  me  cease  working  there  are  the  same  now 
as  when  I  ceased." 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  president.  "  I  had  antici- 
pated your  answer.  I  am  about  to  remove  the  obstacle. 
I  will  recall  that  unkind  note  I  wrote  you.  I  should 
have  addressed  you  then  as  Mr.  Horton.  I  ask  your 
pardon  for  the  offense.  I  think  it  was  the  occasion  of 
the  break  between  us." 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was.  The  pardon  you  ask  is  granted, 
but  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  I  will  go  to  the  bank 
again." 

"  May  I  ask  your  reasons  for  hesitation  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  You  have  called  me  impostor  so  often 
it  has  become  widely  known  in  Prestonbury.  I  do  not 
wish  to  return  to  the  bank  branded  with  that  mark. 


GRUDGING  APOLOGIES 

Then  you  propose  to  make  me  teller.  That  means  per- 
manence. I  am  not  prepared  to  say  I  will  abandon  the 
study  for  the  ministry  to  go  into  business." 

44 1  see ;  I  appreciate.  I  will  make  it  as  widely 
known  as  I  can  that  you  are  my  choice  for  teller,  and 
that  you  have  my  entire  confidence.  And  as  for  the 
second  reason,  I  heard  your  examination.  In  it  you 
were  right,  Mr.  Horton,  but  you  are  fifty  years  in  ad- 
vance of  your  time.  You  will  be  tried  for  heresy  by 
an  unprogressive  church.  I  can  save  you  from  that." 

"  I  must  take  my  own  risks  on  that  line,  Mr.  Elmore. 
I  suppose  men  still  have  to  suffer  for  bearing  witness 
to  the  truth,  as  always  they  have.  I  cannot  answer 
you  to-day.  In  any  event,  I  shall  ask  what,  probably, 
you  will  not  do." 

"What  is  that?" 

44  Take  this  " — he  drew  from  the  table  drawer  Mr. 
Elmore's  note — "  ask  Mr.  Joseph  Jickers  to  read  it,  tell 
him  you  have  recalled  it,  and  in  his  presence  destroy  it." 

44  Why,  yes,  Mr.  Horton,  I  will  do  that."  He  took 
the  note.  "  Anything  more  ?  " 

"Yes.  Make  in  writing  your  proposition  to  me  to 
enter  the  employ  of  the  bank." 

"  Yery  well ;  I  will  do  that." 

44  Then  I  will  give  you  an  answer  as  soon  as  I  can." 

Thus  closed  a  memorable  interview.  Mr.  Elmore 
was  very  sure  he  had  triumphed,  but  he  did  not  know 
Bradford  Horton. 

At  the  drug  store  the  president  asked  to  see  Joseph 
Jickers  alone.  The  three  men  sat  down  in  the  private 
office.  "  Court  is  in  chambers  ;  counsel  can  proceed 
with  his  argument,"  said  the  little  man. 

44  Well,  your  honour,"  Mr.  Elmore  began,  laughing  in 
spite  of  himself,  "  I  wrote  your  friend  Horton  a  letter 


144  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

four  months  ago,  addressing  him  as  William  Drum. 
He  was  offended,  probably  justly.  Here  is  the  note. 
"Will  you  read  it  ?  " 

Joe  read  it  slowly,  quite  as  if  he  had  not  seen  it  be- 
fore, and  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  Council  wasted 
no  words  in  his  communication,  but  court  gives  no 
decision." 

Mr.  Elmore  took  back  the  paper  and  tore  it  into 
small  pieces.  "  Your  honour,  that  is  my  decision,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  apologized  to  Mr.  Horton,  and  told  him 
I  would  make  this  visit  to  you.  That  was  my  errand 
here.  I  fear  I  have  been  making  some  bad  blunders, 
your  honour." 

"  Shoot '  your  honour,'  and  shoot  '  the  court ' !  It's 
man  to  man  now,  Mr.  Elmore.  The  man  who  never 
made  a  blunder  has  never  been  born." 

When  Maxwell  stepped  down  from  the  carriage  at 
the  bank,  he  added  to  his  good-bye  the  remark,  "  This 
is  the  best  morning's  work  you've  done  in  ten  years, 
Mr.  Elmore." 

"  A  good  morning's  work — yes,  Sam  ;  good  for  the 
bank.  But  it  mortified  me  extremely.  And  remember 
this ;  I  may  have  blundered  in  acting  hastily,  but  my 
opinion  is  the  same ;  I  have  good  reason  to  keep  it  so. 
That  young  man  is  no  more  a  Horton  than  I  am." 


XV 
"AS  WE  FOBGIVE  OUR  DEBTOES" 

IT  was  to  Bradford  Horton's  credit  that  the  offer 
from  St.  Bartholomew's  Church  of  a  place  in  its 
choir  at  twelve  hundred  a  year  did  not  cause  him 
a  moment's  hesitation.  Nor  was  he  tempted  by  the 
Preston  National  Bank's  offer  of  the  post  of  teller  at 
one  thousand  dollars.  To  each  he  wrote  an  answer  de- 
clining, and  to  the  seminary  one  accepting  the  position 
of  tutor  in  Greek  at  a  salary  of  four  hundred  dollars. 
With  both  declinations  he  gave  the  same  reasons :  "  I 
have  begun  to  study  for  the  ministry  and  I  must  com- 
plete my  course  before  considering  any  proposition  for 
permanent  occupation  of  another  sort." 

On  the  steps  of  the  post-office,  the  evening  when  he 
mailed  the  three  letters,  he  met  Ansley  Jickers,  and  to- 
gether they  walked  up  to  the  Jickers  home. 

"  What's  new,  client  ?  "  asked  Joe  looking  up  from 
his  paper  as  the  newcomers  joined  the  assembled  family 
in  the  library. 

"Nothing." 

"  Didn't  know  we  had  located  O.-T.,  then  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Not  interested  ?    No  questions  to  ask  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  honour.  But  I  know  and  you  know  your 
honour's  dying  to  tell.  Go  ahead." 

"  Well,  O.-T.  is  in  Albany  in  a  department  store. 
Floor- walker,  you  know.  Jack  Tappan  saw  him  there 
last  week,  and  he  pretended  not  to  know  Jack.  I'm 
going  down  some  time  just  to  see  him.  Won't  it  be 
fun?" 

145 


146  BKADFOKD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  Does  Mr.  Maxwell  know  of  this  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  court  served  notice  to-day." 

Before  more  could  be  said,  Lucy,  full  of  the  news  of 
Horton's  New  York  call,  came  into  the  conversation. 
"  Mr.  Horton,  I'm  glad  you've  had  such  a  fine  offer 
from  New  York,  but  I'm  very  sorry  to  have  you  leave 
us.  We  are  just  coming  to  feel  that  you  are  one  of  us." 

His  reply  was  a  surprise.  "  I'm  not  going,  Miss 
Lucy." 

Dr.  Jickers  dropped  his  paper  and  pushed  back  his 
spectacles.  "  Bless  my  soul !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Horton  laughed.  "  Are  you  as  surprised  as  that, 
Dr.  Jickers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  surprised.  Most  young  men  would  jump 
at  such  an  offer.  But  knowing  you  as  I  am  beginning 
to,  I  ought  not  to  be  astonished.  You  are  like  your 
father  in  many  things." 

The  talk  ran  on,  flowing  around  the  declination  of 
the  New  York  proposal  and  carrying  on  its  current 
naturally  enough  the  story  of  Mr.  Elmore's  offer  and 
Bradford's  refusal  to  leave  the  seminary  for  business 
till  he  knew  more  than  at  present  of  God's  purpose 
with  him.  Once  more  the  doctor  laid  down  his  paper, 
and  once  more  he  said  : 

"  That's  like  your  father,  boy.  You've  made  a  good 
choice,  and  we'll  give  you  another  hundred  for  your 
singing  next  year.  What  chances  young  men  are  hav- 
ing now  !  Bless  my  soul !  How  I  wish  I  was  a  young 
man  ! " 

Bradford  stopped  in  to  see  Sleighton  on  his  way  to 
his  own  room.  "  Here's  a  note  for  you,  B.,"  said  his 
friend.  "  I  heard  a  knocking  on  your  door,  and  found 
a  messenger  with  this." 

The  note  was  from  Mr.  Elmore,  asking  him  to  receive 


«  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS  "     147 

Charlie  once  more  as  a  pupil,  and  to  stay  by  him  for 
the  whole  summer.  "  I  am  very  anxious  to  have  the 
boy  make  Yale  this  autumn.  He  cannot  without  your 
help.  With  it,  the  outcome  should  not  be  doubtful. 
And  he  stubbornly  says  that  it's  Yale  this  fall  or 
never." 

The  letter  caused  Bradford  some  misgivings.  He 
liked  Charlie  Elmore  almost  as  much  as  he  disliked  his 
grandfather.  He  almost  resolved  to  change  his  whole 
plan  for  the  summer.  He  had  promised  to  undertake 
work  for  the  board  of  missions  of  his  church,  and  had 
only  the  day  before  received  a  definite  assignment  for 
the  duty.  He  faced  the  proposition  for  an  hour,  then 
wrote  to  Mr.  Elmore  declining  it,  and  giving  in  full  his 
reasons. 

But  Richard  P.  Elmore  was  not  a  man  to  be  defeated 
easily  in  a  purpose.  Taking  Charlie  with  him,  he  went 
again  to  Room  35.  He  argued  and  pleaded,  while  the 
boy  sat  by  with  wistful  face,  but  Horton's  answer  re- 
mained the  same : 

"  Inclination  and  personal  advantage  make  me  desire 
to  accede  to  your  wish.  But  I  think  I  have  gone  too 
far  with  my  present  plans.  I  might  get  released,  but 
I  hardly  like  to  try.  I'm  sorry  for  Charlie,  but,  Mr. 
Elmore,  I  cannot  feel  that  the  fault  is  mine." 

So  the  interview  ended. 

Mr.  Elmore  accepted  the  answer  as  final  and  began 
a  search  for  another  teacher,  but  Charlie  was  not 
satisfied.  He  wrote  another  letter  to  his  Aunt  Eleanor, 
which  he  ended  with  the  appeal,  "  You  write  to  Mr. 
Horton,  Aunt  Lennie.  Maybe  he'll  listen  to  you." 

A  week  later  Horton  called  on  the  president  at  the 
bank.  He  made  no  delay  about  his  errand.  "  Mr.  El- 
more, is  the  place  of  teller  yet  filled  ?  " 


148  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  No,  sir."    There  was  a  curt  tone  to  the  answer. 

"  Can  I  have  the  post  for  the  next  four  months  ?  " 

"  I  understood  you  to  say  you  had  other  plans." 

"  I  did  have,  but  have  been  obliged  to  change  them 
suddenly." 

"  Four  months,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Does  that  possibly  mean  permanence  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

Mr.  Elmore  summoned  Maxwell.  "  Sam,  can  you 
use  Horton  for  teller  for  four  months?  Is  it  worth 
while?" 

"  Doubly  worth  while." 

The  president  turned  once  more  to  Bradford. 
"  When  can  you  begin  work  ?  " 

"To-day." 

"  Very  good.  The  pay  will  be  one  hundred  dollars 
a  month  for  four  months." 

"  There  is  one  thing  more,  Mr.  Elmore.  Have  you  a 
teacher  for  Charlie  ?  " 

«  No." 

"Can  I  have  him?" 

"  What  has  happened  to  you,  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  have  only  changed  my  plans.  Can  I 
have  Charlie  ?  " 

"  By  all  means.     What  will  be  your  charge  ?  " 

"The  same  as  before."  Then,  before  Mr.  Elmore 
could  speak  further,  he  added,  "  Perhaps  it  will  be  as 
well  if  I  go  at  once  to  see  Charlie  and  start  him  at  his 
work.  I  will  be  back  here  after  dinner." 

When  he  had  gone,  "  Sam,"  said  the  president  to  the 
cashier,  who  stood  by  smiling,  "  Sam,  what's  come  over 
him  ?  He  never  does  anything  for  nothing.  What's 
in  the  wind  now  ?  " 


«AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS"     149 

But  though  neither  man  could  solve  the  problem, 
Eleanor  Elmore  could  have  told  them  the  solution. 
While  Horton  talked  to  the  father  a  letter  in  his 
pocket  from  the  daughter  was  guiding  every  word : 

"  DEAR  MR.  HORTON  : 

"  Charlie  writes  his  last  hope  of  making  Yale 
this  year  is  gone,  because  you  will  not  hear  him  recite. 
He  is  terribly  disappointed,  and  I  shall  be.  Can  you 
not,  will  you  not,  take  him  ? 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"  ELEANOR  ELMORE." 

June  coquettes  with  expectation  often,  but  she  was 
showing  only  her  loveliest  mood  when  Arthur  Tappan 
turned  in  towards  the  porch  where  the  first  citizen  of 
Prestonbury  was  sitting,  enjoying  an  after-dinner  cigar. 
The  view  westward  was  superb.  Sunset  Hill  was  well 
named.  Far  away  towards  the  low-lying  blue  hills  be- 
yond Icauga  Lake  the  sun  was  hastening,  and  long 
slant  rays  painted  with  opalescent  radiance  the  rolling 
landscape.  Patches  of  woodland  were  interspersed  with 
yellow  fields  that  spoke  mutely  of  ripening  grain  ;  rib- 
bons of  road  wound  up  and  down  the  hills  and  valleys  ; 
columns  of  curling  smoke  arose  from  hidden  farm- 
houses; a  trailing  line  of  white,  close  to  the  earth, 
marked  the  track  of  the  evening  express. 

"  Tappan,  you're  welcome,"  said  the  banker  rising  to 
meet  his  friend.  "  I've  been  feasting  my  eyes  on  that 
view.  I  never  weary  of  it,  and  June  shows  it  to  per- 
fection. Have  a  cigar  ?  " 

The  two  smoked  in  silence  till  Mrs.  Elmore  came  out 
at  the  long  French  window. 

"  Mrs.  Elmore,"  said  the  visitor,  "  I  cannot  conceive 
how  it  will  be  possible  for  you  to  find  a  view,  a  single 


150  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

little  view,  more  beautiful  than  that  outstretched  yonder, 
even  though  you  come  across  the  old  garden  of  Eden  as 
you  go  round  the  world." 

"  I'm  sure  I  do  not  know  what  we  shall  see,"  she 
answered,  "  but  I  know  my  moment  of  greatest  happi- 
ness will  be  when,  after  it  all,  I  see  this  view  once  more." 

"  Oh,  grandfather ! "  There  was  a  rush  of  a  happy 
boy  who  came  tearing  through  the  yard  from  behind 
the  house,  and  a  shout  as,  all  unconscious  of  a  guest, 
Charlie  Elmore  went  on,  "  Oh,  grandfather,  it's  great ! 
Mr.  Horton's  going  to  take  me  in  Greek.  He  is,  he 
surely  is  !  I've  been  studying  all  the  afternoon.  I'm 
ready  for  to-morrow  morning.  Did  you  know  he  was 
going  to  take  me,  grandfather  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Here  is  Mr.  Tappan,  Charlie." 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Tappan.  Grandfather,  did  you 
get  him  ?  " 

"  No.    Mr.  Tappan  will  think  you  rude,  Charlie." 

"  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Tappan.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude? 
but  I'm  just  bustin'.  Mr.  Horton's  going  to  hear  my 
Greek,  and  that  means  Yale  for  me  next  fall.  Say, 
grandfather,  what  made  him  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Last  week,  you  know,  he  said  he 
wouldn't  take  you.  This  morning  he  came  and  asked 
if  he  might  have  you.  I  don't  know  what  changed 
him." 

"  I'll  bet  I  do,"  declared  the  boy.  "  I  wrote  Aunt 
Lennie  how  mean  it  all  was,  and  I  just  bet  she  wrote  to 
him  and  asked  him  to  take  me." 

"That's  it,  Elmore."  Mr.  Tappan  did  not  notice  his 
host's  frown  of  annoyance.  "  The  young  people  nowa- 
days can  do  what  we  old  ones  can't.  And  the  girls 
seem  to  know  how  to  wind  the  young  fellows  round 
their  fingers  even  better  than  they  used  to." 


"AS  WE  FOKGIYE  OUR  DEBTORS"     151 

A  figure  appeared  through  the  gathering  dusk  ap- 
proaching the  house,  and  Mr.  Elmore  rose  to  meet  his 
daughter-in-law,  giving  her  the  chair  beside  Mr.  Tappan. 
After  a  momentary  lull  in  the  talk,  the  latter  said  sud- 
denly : 

"  Did  I  tell  you  that  I  saw  your  old  teller  in  Albany 
recently  ?  " 

"  No,  but  your  Jack  told  Jickers,  and  he  told  Max- 
well" 

"  Have  you  sent  an  officer  after  him  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Not  going  to  arrest  him  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  What  ?    Going  to  let  him  go  ?  " 

"Yes.  We  have  the  money.  You  remember  we 
found  most  of  it  intact.  The  student  paid  the  rest." 

"  What  ?    Did  Horton  pay  that  balance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  paid  it.  It  is  not  what  you  would  expect, 
I  know.  But  we  talked  it  all  over.  It  seemed  better 
to  let  him  have  a  chance  to  be  a  man.  He'll  never  re- 
peat the  offense.  How  did  he  look  ?  " 

"Looked  well.  He  was  well  dressed  and  alert  as 
usual.  I  think  he  was  uneasy  at  being  recognized." 

"  He  will  not  feel  so  again.  Maxwell  wrote  him  at 
once  that  we  had  dropped  the  matter." 

As  twilight  deepened  into  night,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Elmore 
sat  alone  in  the  peacefulness  of  June,  their  callers  gone. 
"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Richard  ?  "  she  asked 
at  last. 

"  About  Drum.     I  can't  understand  him  at  all." 

"  I  can,"  she  answered.  "  Charlie  is  right.  Eleanor 
has  written  to  him." 

"  Absurd.  If  I  knew  it  I  would  discharge  him  to- 
morrow." 


152  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  That  would  do  no  good.  Caroline  would  reengage 
him  as  soon  as  we  are  gone." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  she  would.  Oh,  women "  He 

stopped  abruptly. 

"  Oh,  women  what,  dear  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Emily.     Only  I  wish  they  were  all  like 

you." 

****** 

Eleanor  Elmore  was  at  home  but  two  days  after  her 
graduation.  The  house  on  Sunset  Hill  was  closed,  and 
father,  mother  and  daughter  were  off  for  a  trip  of  two 
years  and  a  half.  Running  across  to  Caroline  Elmore's 
for  a  farewell  visit,  the  girl  found  time  to  sit  for  an 
hour  with  her  sister-in-law  on  the  porch,  where  Brad- 
ford Horton  encountered  her  as  he  left  at  the  close  of 
Charlie's  lesson.  Touching  his  hat,  he  was  hurrying  by 
when  Mrs.  Elinore  stopped  him. 

"  Let  me  make  you  and  Miss  Elmore  acquainted,  Mr. 
Horton,"  she  said. 

He  stopped.  "  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
Mr.  Horton,"  said  Eleanor  quickly,  "  but  I  am  glad  to 
renew  the  acquaintance."  Their  hand-clasp  was  cordial. 

"  Mrs.  Elmore  tells  me  you  are  to  start  for  your  long 
tour  to-morrow,"  said  Bradford.  "  Let  me  wish  you 
bon  voyage  and  good-bye." 

"  Oh,  shan't  I  see  you  to-morrow  ?  "  she  answered. 
"  Joe  Jickers  and  Jack  Tappan  are  coming  to  the  train  to 
see  the  last  of  me.  Couldn't  you  join  them  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  his  face  lighting.  "  I  should 
enjoy  that.  But  for  fear  I  should  be  prevented,  let  me 
say  bon  voyage  and  good-bye  once  more." 

She  offered  her  hand  again.  "  Good-bye,"  she  said. 
"  Don't  let  Charlie  fail." 

One  month  from  that  day  the  Elmores  were  in  Yoko- 


"AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS"     153 

hama,  and  Bradford,  by  invitation  of  young  Mrs.  El- 
more,  was  settled  as  a  member  of  her  household  for 
the  summer. 

Those  were  three  strenuous  months  for  Charlie  Elmore, 
but  he  reached  the  goal.  Mother  and  teacher  helped 
the  boy  settle  his  room,  and  left  him,  one  September 
day,  under  the  elms  in  the  park  where  the  two  old 
churches  stand.  The  heart  of  the  mother  was  heavy. 
She  would  never  again  see  just  the  same  boy  that 
she  was  leaving  behind. 

"  I  shall  be  very  lonely  in  my  house  this  winter, 
Mr.  Horton ;  the  more  so  because  it  has  been  so  full  of 
life  this  summer.  I  wish  you  would  remain  as  my 
guest." 

"  That  would  be  delightful  for  me,  but  I  fear  incon- 
venient for  you,  Mrs.  Elmore." 

"  Inconvenient  for  me  ?  Don't  mention  it.  It  would 
be  quite  the  contrary." 

"  But  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Elmore,  I  could  never  repay 
you  for  the  obligation  under  which  you  would  place 
me.  I  hope  you  understand." 

"Obligation?  I  am  putting  you  under  no  obliga- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  I  am  rather  selfish  in  the  mat- 
ter. I  shall  have  to  have  some  one  with  me  in  the 
house.  I  would  feel  safer  if  I  knew  you  were  within 
call.  And  repay  ?  You  repay  me  ?  Why,  I  am  try- 
ing to  find  a  way  by  which  to  express  my  gratitude  for 
what  you  have  done  for  Charlie.  And  then,  what  will 
you  do  without  the  piano  ?  " 

He  stayed.  What  else  could  he  do  ?  In  his  room, 
as  he  packed  for  the  move,  he  said  to  himself,  "  This 
Elmore  coil  seems  to  be  tightening  round  me.  But  I'll 
be  safe  out  of  Prestonbury,  preaching  somewhere,  be- 
for*  Antigone  is  back  again." 


XVI 
A  DAUGHTER'S  EEPEOACHES 


/~  •  "\HE  Elmores  were  in  Japan — old  Japan,  new 
Japan,  curio  shop  of  the  world  ;  nation  young, 

JL  alert,  ambitious  to  know  the  things  known  by 
the  great  world ;  open-eyed,  open-eared  to  the  sights 
and  sounds  visible  and  audible  to  seeing,  hearing  na- 
tions. She  had  not  yet  taught  China  how  strong  she 
was,  though  small ;  had  not  yet  told  the  Russian  bear 
he  could  not  at  will  trample  down  every  right  of  Asia ; 
had  not  yet  become  overlord  of  Korea.  It  was  not  yet 
even  the  Japan  of  the  little  brown  man  striving  to 
stretch  himself  to  the  measure  of  a  statesman.  It  was 
still  the  Japan  of  the  little  brown  child,  but  destined  to 
be  at  some  day  one  of  the  mighty  forces  of  the  earth. 

When  the  Elmores  entered  Yokohama  some  twenty 
years  had  passed  since  Commodore  Perry  had  per- 
formed his  world-famous  deed.  Americans  had  not 
yet  been  drawn  thither  in  great  numbers.  True, 
America  had  opened  the  door  of  the  old  empire  ;  but 
the  feet  of  the  throng  that  first  entered  the  portal  were 
European,  and  for  the  major  part  British.  The  arrival 
of  three  such  Americans  as  the  Elmores,  with  their 
cards  of  introduction  to  diplomatic  circles,  was  an 
event  for  the  world  of  foreign  social  life  in  Yokohama, 
and  Eleanor  found  herself  almost  at  once  the  centre  of 
attraction  for  young  British  officers,  ambassadorial  men 
and  untitled  tourists.  They  were  a  high-bred,  polite 
company,  and  the  vivacious  spirit  of  the  girl  soon  felt 
a  larger  zest  in  life  than  she  had  ever  known  before. 

154 


A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES    155 

She  was  discovering  what  her  shielded  life  in  a  pro- 
vincial city  had  only  hinted  to  her,  that  she  possessed 
an  almost  unlimited  power  to  attract. 

The  gold  lace  and  the  buttons,  the  swords  and  the 
sashes,  really  thought  that  they  were  making  a  con- 
quest of  the  handsome  American  girl  with  the  glorious 
eyes  and  bewitching  hair,  but  no  one  of  them  ever  re- 
ceived the  opportunity  to  prove  it.  Many  an  en- 
amoured swain  found  the  fabric  of  his  vision  baseless, 
when  he  dreamed  of  a  quiet  corner  with  her  alone,  or 
of  a  walk  on  the  veranda,  or  of  a  tour  among  the  shops. 
She  outclassed  them  all,  and  played  a  tantalizing  game 
of  battledore  and  shuttlecock  with  their  hopes. 

Among  them  was  a  Scotchman,  whose  home  was 
beside  the  North  Sea.  He  was  tall,  blue-eyed,  well 
built,  with  sweet  voice  and  pure  diction,  a  university 
man,  who  never  tired  of  talking  about  that  strange 
new  American  institution,  a  college  for  women.  With 
him  Eleanor  was  well  pleased. 

"Can  girls  learn  science,  now?  Can  they  learn 
astronomy  and  philosophy  ?  Tell  me  that !  Do  they 
ever  marry  ?  Tell  me  that !  " 

And  Eleanor  answered  with  a  mixture  of  earnestness 
and  banter  that  delighted  him.  His  name  was  Malcolm 
Stuart.  Asked  once  if  his  name  ran  back  to  the  royal 
Stuarts,  he  answered,  "  Yes,  I  suppose.  I'm  not  par- 
ticularly proud  of  that,  but  it's  a  good  name,  a  very 
good  name." 

"  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have  a  name,  Mr.  Stuart," 
answered  Mr.  Elmore.  "  There  are  men  in  our  country 
who  do  not  know  what  their  names  are." 

Like  a  flash  Eleanor  spoke.  "  But  we  do  not  know 
any  such,  Mr.  Stuart ;  not  any."  Her  father,  compre- 
hending her  meaning,  frowned. 


156  BKADFOKD  HOETON  :  MAN 

An  obsession  is  doubly  unfortunate  when  it  so  pos- 
sesses a  man  as  to  make  him  unfair,  ungenerous,  unkind. 
Mr.  Ehnore  would  have  resented  the  idea  that  the  battle 
between  Bradford  Horton  and  William  Drum  in  his 
brain  was  hardening  his  finer  sensibilities.  Yet  the 
edge  of  his  mortification  at  having  been  forced  into 
advances  to  this  low-born  student  constantly  irritated 
his  better  nature,  and  the  breadth  of  the  Pacific  had 
not  brought  him  f orgetfulness. 

Mr.  Stuart  left  Yokohama  in  advance  of  the  Elmores, 
but  took  with  him  vivid  memories  of  the  fascination 
of  the  bright  American  girl.  He  remembered  also  that 
in  all  their  interviews  he  had  not  once  been  alone  with 
her.  Some  of  the  other  young  men  had  noticed  the 
same  thing  in  their  own  cases. 

Eleanor  had  a  happy  time  in  Yokohama.  She  made 
the  acquaintance  of  an  English  girl  who  had  been 
resident  in  Japan  for  some  years,  from  whom  she  took 
her  cue  as  to  what  she  might  and  might  not  do.  They 
put  on  the  Japanese  dress  and  the  rickshaw  men  took 
them  far  and  wide  in  the  city.  Laughter  and  gayety 
were  unending,  and  the  college  girl  seemed  to  have 
been  transformed  into  a  butterfly. 

All  this  troubled  Mrs.  Elmore.  She  remonstrated, 
but  the  daughter  answered,  "  I'm  all  right,  mommsy. 
Miss  Chisholm  knows." 

At  length  the  mother  went  to  her  husband. 
"  Kichard,"  she  complained,  "  our  girl  troubles  me. 
I  never  acted  so." 

"  Yon  never  had  the  chance ;  but  such  as  you  had 
you  took." 

"  But  I  was  at  home,  Richard,  and  out  hero  these 
English  will  talk." 

"  No,  mother,  no.     The  English  girl  knows  what  she 


A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES          167 

can  do  here  outside  the  lines  of  conventionality.  Don't 
trouble.  Just  be  thankful  that  William  Drum  is  out  of 
our  way  forever." 

"  Why,  what  has  he  to  do  with  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Elmore  blankly.  "I  never  saw  you  hang  on  to  an 
idea  so  long,  Richard.  Eleanor  never  gave  him  a 
second  thought." 

"  Why  does  she  sing  that  song,  then — that  first  Sun- 
day song,  you  know  ?  " 

"  She's  always  been  fond  of  that,  and  you  know  how 
a  song  sticks  in  the  memory.  It's  Stuart  she's  thinking 
of,  not  Drum,  Richard,  and  I  don't  relish  that,  either 
— England's  too  far  away." 

"  Hm-m,"  mused  Mr.  Elmore  thoughtfully.  "  Stuart, 
eh  ?  "  He  did  not  look  displeased. 

****** 

Turning  northward  to  Nikko,  Eleanor  and  her  father 
one  day  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with  the  man  who 
she  thought  had  gone  below  her  horizon  forever.  He 
was  with  a  group  of  Englishmen,  but  promptly  aban- 
doned his  companions  as  he  saw  the  girl.  "  May  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  renewing  my  acquaintance  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Why,  yes,"  answered  Eleanor.  "  But  you  should 
not  leave  your  friends  for  us.  We  are  only  Ameri- 
cans." 

"  If  you  will  permit,  I  shall  enjoy  being  with  '  only 
Americans  '  for  a  little  while,"  he  replied.  "  They  are 
only  Englishmen,  you  know." 

So  the  three  fell  easily  into  conversation.  "  Did  you 
ever  pray  for  a  heathen,  Mr.  Stuart  ?  "  Eleanor  asked 
in  the  midst  of  it. 

"  I  am  neither  priest  nor  curate,  Miss  Elmore.  I  am 
a  Scotch  Presbyterian." 


158  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  But  Presbyterians  pray  for  the  heathen.  I  am  a 
Presbyterian,  and  I  do.  I  prayed  for  a  little  Jap  man 
in  Tokyo  until  my  arms  ached." 

"  But  people  don't  pray  with  their  arms,  you  know, 
Miss  Elmore." 

"  Yes,  they  do.  I  found  a  little  Jap  in,  a  temple  who 
was  too  short  to  reach  up  to  turn  the  great  praying 
wheel,  and  I  turned  it  until  I  was  tired,  but  he  would 
not  let  me  stop.  If  each  turn  meant  a  sin  to  be  for- 
given he  must  be  the  worst  sinner  in  all  Japan.  When 
I  had  secured  absolution  enough  to  satisfy  him,  he 
backed  away  a  little  and  threw  himself  upon  his  face 
and  bobbed  his  head  until  I  said,  '  You  ridiculous  crea- 
ture, get  up  ! ' : 

As  they  walked  through  the  long  avenue  of  palms, 
Stuart  told  of  his  English  home.  He  could  not  hold 
his  own  in  the  raillery  which  she  loved  ;  his  mind  was 
of  the  matter-of-fact  English  type  whose  conversation 
must  deal  with  literal  statements.  Eleanor's  holiday 
mood  found  his  graphic  word  picture  tiresome,  and  her 
father,  noticing  her  bored  attitude,  reproved  her  for  it 
later  at  the  hotel. 

"  You  were  not  a  good  listener  to-day,  Lennie." 

"  "Why  did  he  have  to  be  so  stupid,  then  ?  It  was 
like  taking  plain  bread  and  butter  on  a  picnic.  This 
trip  of  ours  is  just  a  big  picnic,  and  I  want  sandwiches 
and  lemonade  and  cookies.  I  can  talk  sense,  if  I  have 
to,  with  you  and  mother,  but  who  wants  to  talk  sense 
with  a  man  ?  " 

It  was  speedily  plain  that  Stuart,  however,  was  in  no 
picnic  mood.  The  Yokohama  fascination  ripened  at 
Nikko  into  love,  as  Eleanor  was  quick  to  comprehend. 

"  He  is  with  us  morning,  noon  and  night,  father," 
she  laughed  one  day.  "  I  am  troubled  about  mother — 


A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES    159 

he  certainly  has  designs  upon  her.  We  never  go  for  a 
walk  but  he  manages  to  overtake  us  and  get  beside 
mother  almost  before  we  get  started."  She  did  not 
add  how  hard  she  herself  had  to  maneuvre  for  it. 

She  led  Stuart  a  merry  dance  those  days.  He  tried 
in  every  way  to  encounter  her  alone,  but  she  never 
gave  him  half  a  chance.  At  last,  the  night  before  he 
was  to  leave  Nikko,  he  came  upon  her  suddenly  alone. 

"  I  must  go  to-morrow,  Miss  Elmore,"  he  began  ab- 
ruptly. "  But  it  is  duty,  not  choice,  that  makes  me 
go.  Had  I  my  way,  I  would  stay  where  you  are 
always,  and " 

She  broke  in  hurriedly  before  the  sentence  could  be 
finished.  *  What  a  foolish  thing  that  would  be,  to  be 
sure  !  I  wouldn't  stay  always  with  the  best  person  on 
earth.  What's  more,  I  can't  stay  with  you  now,  either. 
I  was  just  on  my  way  to  answer  a  call  of  duty  my- 
self." 

They  were  on  the  veranda ;  she  turned  towards  the 
door  that  led  to  the  brightly  lighted  interior.  "  You 
see,"  she  said  archly,  "  duty's  call  is  harder  on  me  than 
on  you — yours  doesn't  call  till  to-morrow."  With  a 
gay  "  good-night  "  she  passed  inside,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  Stuart  tried  to  see  her  for  a  final  farewell, 
he  found  she  had  started  early  with  a  party  for  a  tramp 
in  the  mountains. 

Alone  in  her  room  that  night  Eleanor  had  addressed 
to  herself  a  firm  reprimand.  "  Don't  you  let  that  sort 
of  thing  happen  again,"  she  admonished  herself  in  the 
glass.  "It's  fun,  of  course.  But  you  don't  want  to 
cheapen  the  real  thing  by  hearing  the  words  that  tell 
of  it  from  every  man  that  comes  along.  The  man  you 
love  must  be  the  first  to  say  he  loves  you — and  where 
he  is  now  you  don't  know." 


160  BRADFOKD  HORTON:  MAN 

It  was  somewhat  to  her  annoyance,  therefore,  after 
supposing  that  she  would  have  no  more  need  to  use 
her  efforts  at  prevention  upon  Stuart,  that  she  found 
him  directly  opposite  her  in  the  dining  saloon  on  the 
steamer  from  Nagasaki  to  Shanghai.  "  Can  I  never  be 
rid  of  him  ?  "  she  asked  herself,  while  he  was  thinking, 
"  Perhaps  things  will  go  a  little  my  way  now." 

Next  day  he  sought  Mr.  Elmore,  whom  he  found 
alone  on  deck,  smoking. 

"Mr.  Elmore,"  he  said,  "may  I  speak  of  a  thing 
purely  personal  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  find  myself  very  deeply  interested  in  your  charm- 
ing daughter.  I  would  greatly  like  to  tell  her  that  I 
love  her." 

"  Well,  why  not  ?  " 

"  That  is  for  you  to  determine,  sir.  You  know  little 
of  me,  but  I  can  substantiate  all  I  say.  I  am  a  Scotch 
Stuart  and  have  a  fair  fortune,  but  it  can  in  no  sense 
compare  with  what  my  fortune  will  be  if  I  win  Miss 
Elmore's  hand." 

The  father  was  smiling.  "  It  would  suit  me  well," 
he  thought.  "  It  would  end  the  Drum  danger  forever." 
Aloud  he  said  only,  "  I  will  lay  nothing  in  your  way, 
Mr.  Stuart." 

Eleanor  was  far  out  towards  the  bow  watching  the 
lookout.  She  knew  instinctively  as  Stuart  took  his 
place  at  her  side  that  the  purpose  she  had  seen  in  him 
was  crystallized,  and  she  was  sorry  he  had  come. 
Hastily  she  plunged  into  the  first  subject  that  occurred 
to  her. 

"  Mr.  Stuart,  do  you  love  music  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  I've  never  been  an  opera-goer,  but  I 
enjoy  good  singing." 


A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES          161 

"  Do  you  know  « The  Messiah  '  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Every  Englishman  knows  HandeL" 

"  I  heard  it  last  Christmas  time,  at  home,  and  a  friend 
of  mine  was  the  tenor.  I  wish  you  could  have  heard 
him  sing  it." 

"  Are  you  a  singer,  Miss  Elmore  ?  " 

"  Not  a  very  good  one.     I've  studied  a  little." 

"Won't  you  sing  for  me,  and  let  me  be  judge 
whether  it's  good  or  not  ?  " 

She  saw  a  chance  to  escape  from  what  she  felt  was 
coming  and  made  haste  to  take  it. 

"  Yes,  if  you  won't  be  bored.     I'll  sing  for  you  now. 
Do  you  know  the  song,  '  I'm  Afloat,  I'm  Afloat  on  the 
Deep  Rolling  Tide '  ?    This  wide  ocean  makes  me  feel 
like  singing  that.     Come  to  the  saloon."     And  she 
started  hurriedly  away  from  the  bow. 

But  he  was  in  no  mood  to  hear  her  sing  then. 
"  "Wait,"  he  said  as  with  quick  step  he  overtook  her. 
"  I'll  hear  you  sing  in  Shanghai." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  she  thought,  "  have  I  got  to  have  him 
in  Shanghai  ?  "  Aloud  she  said,  "  Tell  me,  Mr.  Stuart, 
what  sort  of  a  place  is  Shanghai  ?  Is  it  funny  like 
Yokohama  ?  "  and  she  walked  steadily  on  towards  mid- 
ship. 

"Wait,"  he  repeated,  trying  to  stop  her.  "  I  want  to 
talk  a  little  with  you." 

"  You  can  talk  as  we  walk,  and  walk  as  we  talk," 
she  answered.  "  What  sort  of  a  place  is  Shang- 
hai?" 

He  saw  she  was  trying  to  baffle  him,  and  he  deter- 
mined he  would  not  be  baffled.  But  circumstances 
saved  her.  One  of  those  strange  interruptions  which 
have  changed  so  many  things  and  which  -we  have  all 
experienced  came  suddenly.  There  rose  sharp  on  the 


162  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

air  the  appalling  cry,  "  Man  overboard ! "  It  came 
from  far  astern,  and  forgetting  everything  but  this  one 
idea  of  danger  to  a  human  life  she  started  wildly  along 
the  deck  and  towards  the  vessel's  side. 

"  Come !  Come  quick !  Oh,  come,  come  !  "  And 
ere  the  man  fully  comprehended  she  was  gone. 

Chagrined  and  vexed,  he  followed,  but  too  slowly  for 
her  swift  feet.  When  at  last  he  saw  the  steamer  take 
up  the  boat  with  the  rescued  man  a  half  hour  had  gone 
since  the  moment  of  that  first  wild  cry.  He  pushed 
through  the  throng  on  deck  to  find  Eleanor,  but  she  had 
vanished,  nor  did  she  appear  for  dinner,  her  mother  ex- 
plaining that  she  had  been  nervously  upset  by  the  oc- 
currence and  was  in  bed. 

Next  day  she  was  inseparable  from  her  mother,  and 
the  day  following  he  had  to  stand  by  the  rail  and  watch 
her  embark  in  a  sampan  for  the  land  at  Shanghai.  His 
destination  was  Hongkong,  and  his  heart  was  heavy. 
He  had  changed  his  mind  about  stopping  over  till  the 
next  steamer ;  he  felt  it  useless. 

At  the  port  Eleanor  received  a  letter  from  Joe  Jickers, 
delightful  in  its  characteristic  and  genuine  jollity  and 
lack  of  sentiment.  Mainly  nonsense,  it  yet  brought  her 
some  little  flashes  of  illumination.  One  passage  in  par- 
ticular interested  her : 

"  Lennie,  that  '  new  type '  student  keeps  right  on 
new-typing  with  all  his  might.  He  forgot  how  to  be 
like  other  men  before  he  was  born.  He  has  not  been 
charged  with  a  single  bank  robbery  this  year.  By  the 
way,  I  ran  across  Oren-Toole  in  Albany  just  before 
Christmas.  He's  in  a  dry-goods  store.  He  pretended 
not  to  know  me.  '  I  want  some  needles  with  points  on 
both  ends,'  I  said.  He  answered,  real  testy,  '  You 
greenhorn,  there's  no  such  needles.'  '  Oh,  yes,  there 


A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES    163 

are,  O.-T.,'  said  I.  '  Knitting-needles.'  And  I  laughed, 
and  he  was  mad. 

"  Horton  sang  in  '  The  Messiah '  in  New  York  Christ- 
mas week  and  they  paid  him  with  one  five-hundred- 
dollar  gold  piece.  By  the  way,  did  any  one  ever  tell 
you  that  he  paid  the  bank  the  money  that  O.-T.  stole  ? 
And  that  he  kept  the  bank  from  arresting  O.-T.  and 
putting  him  in  the  penitentiary  ?  Perhaps  your  father 
has  told  you  all  this,  for  that  was  before  you  began 
circumnavigating  the  universe.  And,  Lennie,  did  you 
know  that  Horton  is  living  at  Caroline  Elmore's  ?  " 

It  occurred  to  Eleanor  that  it  was  strange  she  had 
never  happened  to  be  told  these  facts,  yet  the  passing 
thought  did  not  prevent  her  from  reading  the  letter 
entire  to  her  father.  Knowing  his  fondness  for  Joe, 
she  expected  a  manifestation  of  interest  and  pleasure  at 
the  letter,  and  was  therefore  surprised  when  his  only 
response  was  a  "  h'm !  " 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Is  anything  else  necessary,  dear  ? "  he  asked,  re- 
straining with  difficulty  his  anger  at  being  followed  by 
this  unbearable  impostor  all  over  the  world. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Mr.  Horton  was  rooming  at 
Caroline's,  father  ?  " 

"Not  Mr.  Horton,  Eleanor,  Mr.  Drum,"  he  said, 
with  sharp  reproof  in  his  tone. 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  daddy !  Did  you  know  he  was  at 
Caroline's  ?  It's  funny  she's  never  written  about  it." 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  it.  I  suppose  she  thought  I 
would  hardly  find  the  knowledge  gratifying.7' 

Eleanor  heeded  no  danger  signals  when  her  mind  was 
set  on  a  subject.  "  Is  it  really  so  that  he  kept  the  bank 
from  prosecuting  Oren-Toole?"  she  persisted.  "I've 
often  wondered  why  you  didn't." 


164  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  Sam  told  the  directors  it  was  his  request." 

"  "Whose  request  ?    Mr.  Maxwell's  ?  " 

"  No ;  Drum's." 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  daddy.  That  was  noble,  wasn't 
it?" 

"  H'm !  "  was  all  the  reply. 

"  There  you  go  with  your  '  h'm '  again !  "What's  the 
matter  with  you,  father  ?  Did  Mr.  Horton  need  to  pay 
back  that  money  ?  " 

"  No,  child,  no.  But  hark !  That  man's  name  is 
Drum,  and  that  is  what  you  are  to  call  him  when  you 
speak  to  me." 

"  What  made  him  pay  it  back,  father  ?  " 

"  That  is  rather  hard  to  answer,  Lennie.  It  was 
probably  to  keep  himself  before  the  public.  He  seems 
to  enjoy  doing  that." 

Eleanor  was  upon  him  with  another  question  more 
annoying  than  the  last. 

"  Father,  don't  you  think  it  was  a  noble,  a  generous 
act?" 

That  was  exactly  what  he  thought,  but  his  daughter's 
tenacity  was  robbing  him  of  self-control.  "  Yes,  in  a 
way."  he  answered  curtly.  "  Now  we  will  drop  this 
subject,  Eleanor.  I  don't  care  to  discuss  it  further." 

"  Drop  the  subject  ?  Why,  Father  Elmore  !  A  man 
does  a  noble  act,  of  which  you  know,  and  never  tell 
me,  and  I  hear  of  it  here  in  Asia,  and  when  I  ask  about 
it  you  say  drop  it  ?  You're  not  fair  to  me,  nor  to  your- 
self, nor  to  Mr.  Horton." 

"  Eleanor,  I'll  not  hear  you  say  Horton.  That  man's 
name  is  Drum." 

"  You  told  me  yourself  once  it  was  Horton.  What 
has  changed  your  mind  ?  " 

"  His  father's  testimony." 


A  DAUGHTER'S  REPROACHES          166 

"  Father,  you  don't  know  that  the  old  man  who  died 
was  Mr.  Horton's  father." 

"  Don't  know  ?  Of  course  I  know.  Let  us  have  done 
with  this.  You  do  not  know  men.  I  do.  A  man  of 
such  grade,  such  class " 

Before  her  father  could  finish  the  girl  broke  in, 
"  Grade  ?  Class  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  this  man  who  seems  to  have  bewitched 
you  is  low-born.  I  cannot  understand  your  interest  in 
him.  He  is  beneath  us.  He  can  never  attain  to  our 
standing." 

"  The  worse  for  the  standing,"  she  answered  hotly. 
Then,  softening  her  tone,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  *  be- 
neath us,'  father  ?  " 

"  Why,  that  we  are  of  the  genteel  sort.  You  are  a 
lady.  In  the  veins  of  your  ancestors  flowed  the  best 
blood  of  the  colonies,  and  those  back  of  them  belonged 
to  the  nobility  of  England.  There  was  once,  Eleanor, 
a  Lord  Elmore  of  Devonshire,  and  between  us  and  this 
drunken  pauper's  son " 

Then  the  cloud  of  the  girl's  wrath  burst.  She  sprang 
from  the  stool  where  she  had  been  sitting  by  him  and 
her  words  fell  on  his  head  like  hot  rain. 

"la  lady,"  she  cried,  "  and  you  a  lordling?  Oh,  you 
are  wrong !  I  am  only  a  plain  American  girl  who 
despises  shams.  And  you  ?  I  thought  you  were  a  just, 
true,  sham-scorning  American  man,  and  I  am  finding — 
oh,  the  shame  of  it ! — I  am  finding  you,  my  father  "- 
she  paused  a  moment,  then  ended  her  sentence — "  only 
a  common  snob  !  " 

Then,  the  colour  flooding  back  into  her  face  that  had 
paled  with  anger,  and  with  her  heart  in  a  tumult,  she 
rushed  from  the  room. 


XVII 
LIGHTNING  STEOKE  AND  CLOUD 

ELEANOR  and  her  mother  were  already  at  the 
table  when  Mr.  Elinore  joined  them  for  dinner. 
The  girl  had  regained  her  composure  and 
serenely  did  her  best  to  conceal  the  situation  from  her 
mother  and  to  make  the  hour  pass  pleasantly  for  all 
three.  Her  father,  however,  was  in  no  mood  to  be 
pleased.  Anger,  shame  and  resentment  possessed  his 
soul,  and  he  did  not  comprehend  that  his  daughter's 
serenity  had  cost  her  a  struggle  and  was  intended  as  her 
peace  offering.  Anger  is  often  the  supremest  selfish- 
ness. In  all  his  life  Mr.  Elmore  had  never  been  so 
angry,  never  so  conscious  of  himself. 

At  the  end  of  what  was  for  him  a  wretched  hour, 
"  Eleanor,"  he  said,  as  they  rose,  "  I  would  like  to  see 
you  in  my  room." 

The  girl  understood  her  father's  mood ;  she  knew  that 
the  request  meant  more  misery.  Resolving  that  she  at 
least  would  contribute  nothing  to  it,  and  that  she 
would  make  peace  if  possible,  she  agreed  promptly. 
"  We'll  be  back  pretty  soon,  mother,"  she  said  as  she 
established  Mrs.  Elmore  in  a  pleasant  spot  in  the 
parlour.  "  You  wait  here." 

Up-stairs  in  her  father's  room  she  took  her  usual 
place  on  the  stool  at  his  feet. 

"  I'm  sorry,  father,"  she  began,  without  waiting  for 
him  to  speak  first,  "  very  sorry  for  this  afternoon." 

166 


LIGHTNING  STROKE  AND  CLOUD      167 

The  look  in  her  face  was  of  the  tenderest  love,  could 
her  father  but  have  seen  it.  For  a  moment  he  almost 
relented,  then  resentment  returned  and  mastered  him. 
His  answer  contained  no  acknowledgment  of  the 
apology  that  had  cost  her  such  an  effort. 

"  Do  you  realize  what  you  said  to  me  this  afternoon, 
Eleanor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father.     As  I  say,  I'm  very  sorry." 

He  did  not  heed  the  pleading  in  her  eyes.  "Do 
those  words  represent  the  estimate  you  place  on  me 
after  years  of  devotion,  years  in  which  no  want  of  yours 
has  been  denied  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  father,  it  was  not  an  estimate.  It  was  a 
surge  of  anger." 

"  You  want  to  honour  me  ?  Why  then  have  you  dis- 
obeyed me  in  the  matter  of  this  man  Drum  ?  I  told 
you  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him.  Yet  when 
you  returned  to  college  after  the  holidays  you  allowed 
him  to  ride  in  the  same  car  seat  with  you " 

"  No,  sir ! "  The  girl  jumped  to  her  feet.  "  Not  for 
a  moment.  Mr.  Sleighton  sat  by  me.  Mr.  Horton  was 
at  the  other  end  of  the  car,  and  I  did  not  know  that  un- 
til just  before  reaching  the  junction.  Then  Mr.  Sleigh- 
ton - 

"  That  will  do.  Mr.  Tappan  saw  him  with  you,  and 
told  me." 

"  Oh,  father  !  What  has  come  over  you  ?  You  are 
so  unfair." 

"Hush,  Eleanor.  In  June  last  you  wrote  to  him. 
You " 

"  Father,  you  go  too  far.  I  wrote  three  lines  to  him 
asking  him  to  take  Charlie  and  get  him  into  Yale.  I 
did  it  because  Charlie  wrote  such  a  pitiful  letter  to  me. 
Every  one  had  tried  and  failed ;  I  thought  I  would  try 


168  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

for  your  sake,  for  Charlie's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  us  all. 
Oh,  why  will  you  be  so  unkind  ?  " 

Then  once  more  her  father  changed  his  point  of  at- 
tack. "  What  made  Malcolm  Stuart  go  on  to  Hong- 
kong alone  ?  " 

It  was  a  fatal  question.  The  girl  accepted  the  issue. 
Her  tone,  which  had  been  pleading  and  tender,  became 
cold,  steady  and  emotionless.  "  The  fact  that  he  was 
alone,  I  suppose,"  she  answered. 

"  Eleanor,  do  not  evade  my  questions.  I  will  not 
have  it.  You  know  he  intended  to  stop  at  Shanghai." 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  grew  impatient. 
"  Why  do  you  not  reply  ?  "  he  urged. 

"  You  asked  me  no  question." 

"  Did  you  not  know  he  intended  to  stop  here  ?  " 

"  I  knew  he  thought  perhaps  he  might." 

"  What  made  him  change  his  mind  so  suddenly  ?  " 

"  Did  he  change  it  suddenly  ?  " 

"  Eleanor,  I  will  not  have  this.  I  will  have  my  ques- 
tions answered.  Did  Stuart  ask  you  to  be  his  wife  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  he  did,  father  ?  " 

Mr.  Elmore  was  nearly  beaten,  but  pride  made  him 
say  one  more  thing. 

"  Because  he  asked  me,  Eleanor,  if  he  might  offer 
himself  to  you.  I  told  him  yes.  I  never  for  a  moment 
supposed  you  would  refuse  such  a  man  for  the  sake  of 
that  other  nameless " 

He  went  no  further.  With  one  of  those  swift  move- 
ments peculiar  to  women  she  was  at  the  door. 

"  Good-bye,  father.  I'll  go  before  I  commit  a  worse 
offense  than  that  of  this  afternoon.  I  will  never  speak 
again  as  I  did  then.  You  have  become  possessed  with 
the  idea  that  I  am  infatuated  with  Mr.  Horton,  a  man 
to  whom  I  have  spoken  only  twice,  and  neither  time 


LIGHTNING  STROKE  AND  CLOUD      169 

for  more  than  five  minutes.  He  cares  nothing  for  me, 
and  if  He  did  I  would  not  marry  him,  should  he  ask  me, 
until  he  had  your  consent  and  until  you  had  told  me  it 
\vould  please  you." 

She.  had  spoken  with  her  hand  on  the  knob,  and  as 
she  finished  passed  out  into  the  corridor.  But  before 
the  door  was  quite  closed  behind  her  she  heard  a  hur- 
ried call  from  within.  "  Wait,  Eleanor !  Wait !  " 

She  turned  back  to  see  her  father  with  hand  out- 
stretched, risen  from  his  chair.  "  Did  you  mean  all 
that — all  of  it  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  shaken  voice. 

"  Yes,  father,"  she  said  proudly,  still  holding  her 
place  at  the  door  across  the  room  from  him. 

"  Come  back  then,  Lennie !  Come  back !  "  But  be- 
fore she  reached  his  side  the  weary  brain,  overwrought 
by  passion,  had  given  way  and  he  had  dropped  uncon- 
scious into  his  chair. 

*  *  #  *  *  * 

"  No,  Madam.  It  is  not  necessarily  nor  probably  a 
fatal  stroke.  It  is  what  is  popularly  called  partial 
paralysis.  Your  husband's  brain  has  been  under  some 
severe  strain,  and  a  time  of  enforced  rest  has  come. 
His  recovery  will  be  slow,  however." 

The  doctor  was  right.  The  struggle  with  disease 
was  long,  but  it  brought  into  action  the  qualities  long 
latent  which  made  Emily  Elmore  a  noble  woman.  For 
a  week  Eleanor  aided  her  mother  in  watching  over  the 
unconscious  man,  then  slowly  the  tired  brain  woke. 
The  girl  had  told  her  mother  all  that  had  happened, 
and  the  mother  with  real  loveliness  had  softened  the 
sorrows  of  the  little  tragedy,  and  spoken  no  reproach. 

"Your  father  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by  that 
Glencoe  woman's  letter,  by  what  he  called  Mr.  Hor- 
ton's  perfidy,  and  by  what  he  feared  might  come  be- 


170  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

tween  you  and  Mr.  Horton,  should  you  be  under  his 
influence.  He  is  a  fascinating  man,  dear,  and  your 
father  feels  that  whenever  he  is  where  Mr.  Horton  is. 
Now  that  you  have  told  him  what  you  have,  there  will 
be  no  more  trouble.  It  will  all  come  right  by  and  by." 

Nevertheless,  one  day  after  her  father's  mind  had 
cleared,  a  sight  of  Eleanor  threw  him  into  such  a  spasm 
of  excitement  that  the  physician  who  was  present 
gently  asked  her  to  withdraw.  Before  he  left  the 
hotel  he  said  to  her : 

"  My  dear,  sometimes  duty  keeps  us  by  a  sick  bed, 
and  sometimes  away  from  it.  This  is  one  of  the  latter 
times.  Were  you  with  your  father  when  the  attack 
seized  him  ?  " 

"I  was.  For  the  first  time  since  I  was  born  my 
father  and  I  had  quarrelled.  It  breaks  my  heart  to 
think  what  I  have  done." 

"  You  did  not  do  it  all.  Your  father  evidently  was 
in  an  overwrought  nervous  state,  caused  by  something 
that  had  preceded  this  disagreement.  Blaming  yourself 
will  not  help  matters  in  the  least.  Just  keep  well,  so 
that  when  you  see  him  again  he  will  find  you  bright 
and  cheery.  But  don't  try  to  see  him  until  I  say  you 
may." 

So  through  January  and  February  and  into  March 
the  girl  waited,  patient,  hoping,  praying,  sometimes 
against  hope.  At  last  there  came  a  day  when  with 
clear  tongue  the  invalid  could  speak,  and  his  first 
words  were,  "  "Where  is  Eleanor  ?  " 

Then  the  surgeon  lifted  his  embargo  and  called  her 
to  her  father's  bedside.  He  held  out  his  good  hand ; 
she  lifted  it  to  her  lips  without  a  word,  and  his  smile 
answered.  Nor  was  the  incident  from  the  past  touched 
upon  as  his  strength  returned. 


LIGHTNING  STKOKE  AND  CLOUD      171 

May  found  the  convalescent  able  to  travel,  and  their 
journey  took  them  to  Hongkong.  Mr.  Elmore's  walk 
was  slow  and  heavy,  but  there  was  life  in  it,  and  a 
chance  occurrence  helped  to  bring  back  more  robust 
health.  Walking  one  day  along  a  street  lined  with 
the  shops  that  so  delight  foreigners,  he  and  Eleanor 
heard  an  unexpected  salutation. 

"  Hello,  Elmore !  This  is  a  surprise.  Where  do 
you  hail  from  ? "  The  speaker  was  ruddy-faced  and 
British-whiskered,  with  success  and  self-appreciation 
written  in  every  line  of  him.  He  was  the  Hon.  John 
Eggleston,  member  of  Congress  from  New  York  City, 
and  an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Elmore.  The  hearty  tone 
roused  that  gentleman  more  than  anything  that  had 
occurred  since  his  illness. 

"  Come  round  to  our  hotel  to-night,  John,  and  dine 
with  us,"  Mr.  Elmore  added  after  the  necessary  expla- 
nations and  introductions.  Eleanor's  heart  gave  a 
great  bound  of  joy.  That  was  the  first  note  of  human 
interest  to  sound  in  her  father's  voice  for  months,  and 
grateful  tears  welled  up  from  the  depths  of  her  life  and 
overflowed. 

"  Yes,  come,  Mr.  Eggleston,"  she  said  ;  "  you  will 
do  father  a  world  of  good." 

That  night  was  the  turning  point  around  which 
Mr.  Elmore  came  up  to  his  normal  life.  It  was  a 
happy  dinner  party,  and  after  the  dinner  they  all 
talked  together  until  almost  midnight. 

Eggleston  left  with  a  promise  to  return  next  day. 
For  a  week  the  two  men  were  inseparable,  and  when 
the  congressman  sailed  for  North  China  Mr.  Elmore 
was  practically  a  well  man. 

October  came.  The  Elmores  turned  their  faces 
towards  India  and  the  homeward  way.  December 


172  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

found  them  in  Cairo,  quartered  comfortably  at  Sheap- 
ard's.  A  Cook's  tour  party  of  Yassar  girls  was  to 
Eleanor  a  most  welcome  change  from  the  French, 
English  and  German  people  by  whom  she  had  been 
surrounded  now  for  many  months.  Some  of  the  old 
zest  that  had  characterized  her  in  Japan  returned  and 
life  began  to  look  rose-coloured  once  more,  when  sud- 
denly one  morning  in  the  garden  she  met  Malcolm 
Stuart,  with  some  other  Englishmen.  He  lifted  his 
hat,  but  passed  without  pausing  to  speak. 

"  Must  I  go  through  all  that  once  more  ?  "  she  asked 
herself. 

Later,  alone  with  her  mother  on  the  veranda,  she 
told  her  of  the  occurrence. 

"Your  father  will  be  glad  to  see  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Elmore.  "  He  was  very  fond  of  Mr.  Stuart." 

"  You  know,  mother,  it  was  about  him  that  father 
and  I  quarrelled.  I'm  afraid  to  have  father  see  him 
again." 

"  I'll  manage  it,  dear.  I  can  tell  him  I  think  Mr. 
Stuart  is  here,  and  can  prepare  him  so  there  will 
be  nothing  sudden  about  it." 

For  her  father's  sake,  then,  Eleanor  made  no  effort 
to  avoid  the  meeting  which  otherwise  she  would  have 
endeavoured  to  prevent.  "When  Stuart  passed  her  in  a 
garden  nook  she  blushed  rosily,  but  replied  to  his 
greeting  graciously  enough,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you, 
Mr.  Stuart,  and  father  will  be  more  than  glad." 

"  I  return  the  compliment,  Miss  Elmore.  I  regretted 
that  I  could  not  stop  yesterday  to  say  how  heartily  I  do 
so.  Is  your  father  well  ?  " 

"  Yery  well.  You  will  call  to  see  him,  I  hope." 
Much  against  her  will  she  gave  the  invitation,  which 
was  accepted  with  alacrity.  So  it  came  about  that 


LIGHTNING  STROKE  AND  CLOUD      173 

the  friendship  between  the  two  men,  begun  in  the  far 
East,  was  renewed  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  Day 
after  day  Mr.  Elmore  sought  out  Stuart,  and  inevitably 
the  party  of  three  Americans  became  a  party  of  four, 
of  whom  one  was  a  Scotchman,  an  arrangement  which 
did  not  terminate  with  their  sojourn  in  Cairo,  for  when 
they  left  for  Rome  Stuart  went  with  them. 

Poor  Eleanor  felt  the  tightening  of  the  cords  that 
were  slowly  drawing  her  and  Stuart  nearer  together. 
She  saw  her  father's  evident  pleasure  in  their  proximity. 
What  could  she  do  ?  Any  day  she  might  have  sent 
him  away,  but  she  dreaded  the  effect  upon  her  father. 
So  she  allowed  the  cords  to  tighten,  hoping  that  some- 
thing for  which  she  should  not  be  responsible  would 
snap  them,  while  each  day  she  knew  more  surely  that 
Malcolm  Stuart  loved  her.  But  fate  was  kind  to  her 
wary  game  of  preventing  his  declaration.  Before  the 
one  thought  that  filled  Stuart's  heart  had  had  opportu- 
nity to  be  spoken,  telegrams  summoned  him  impera- 
tively home. 


XYHI 
WKECKED  BANK— EESTOEED  MAN 

EEN  huntin'  all  over  town  fer  you,  mister." 
The  messenger  handed  in  the  telegram  at  the 
door  of  Ansley  Jickers's  office,  presented  his 
book  to  be  signed  and  departed  after  the  manner  of  his 
kind.  Bradford  Horton  tore  open  the  yellow  envelope 
deliberately.  He  had  stopped  in  at  the  lawyer's  office 
for  a  half  hour's  talk  on  the  day  before  the  closing 
of  his  second  seminary  year.  He  read  the  message, 
whistled  gently  and  passed  the  paper  to  his  friend. 

"  My  trip  to  Georgian  Bay  has  vanished,  Ansley,"  he 
remarked  ruefully.  "  You  may  have  the  trout  I  was  to 
catch." 

The  attorney  read  the  brief  statement  of  the  tele- 
gram :  "  Come  home  at  once.  Bank  wrecked.  Cashier 
dead.  Family  ruined. — Conrad  Vanderbosch."  "Short 
but  comprehensive,"  was  his  comment.  "  Who's  Van- 
derbosch ?  " 

"  My  brother-in-law." 

"  Cashier  dead,  eh  ?    Thief,  probably.    Was  that  the 
bank  Henry  Horton  founded  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Will  you  lose  anything  by  the  failure  ?  " 
"  No,  but  the  estate  is  ruined.     It  was  never  divided." 
"  Well,  then,  of  course,  you  lose  your  portion." 
The  hour  Bradford  had  thought  could  never  come, 
after  his  father's  death,  was  on  him.     He  met  it  like  a 
man. 

174 


WRECKED  BANK— RESTORED  MAN     175 

"  Ansley,  I  have  no  portion  in  that  estate.  It  humil- 
iates me  awfully  to  tell  you,  but  Henry  Horton  was  only 
my  father  by  adoption.  I  buried  my  father  in  Mount 
Logan  Cemetery  last  year.  As  he  did  not  wish  his 
identity  known,  however,  I  have  had  to  keep  it  secret." 

The  young  man  flushed  with  the  effort  of  the  confes- 
sion. 

"  All  that's  no  news  to  me,  Bradford,"  said  the 
lawyer.  "  Oh,  yes,"  not  pausing  for  Bradford's  excla- 
mation of  surprise,  "  I  learned  all  that  last  year  at  the 
time  of  your  difficulty.  It  was  only  a.  matter  of  a  few 
inquiries  of  legal  correspondents.  But  it's  not  neces- 
sary for  you  to  go  around  publishing  what  you've  just 
told  me.  To  all  intents  and  purposes,  of  course,  you're 
the  son  of  Henry  Horton." 

"Ansley,"  cried  Bradford,  half  stammering  in  his 
amazement,  "  Ansley,  do  you  mean  to  say  you've  known 
this  for  more  than  a  year  ?  " 

"  That's  it,  my  boy." 

"  And  never  told  your  father  ?  Never  told  Joe  ? 
Ansley,  you're  a  great  man  and  a  true  friend." 

The  lawyer  wriggled  uncomfortably ;  he  disliked 
thanks.  "  Cut  the  compliments,  Horton.  I'm  a  law- 
yer, not  a  woman ;  it's  my  business  to  receive  infor- 
mation, not  to  give  it.  Preachers  need  the  same  talent, 
by  the  way.  Now,"  briskly,  "  what's  your  plan  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  go  to  Glencoe  as  soon  as  I  can  arrange  it." 

"  What  is  it  they  want  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  they  want  me  to  straighten  out  the 
books.  Conrad  knows  I'm  an  expert." 

"  And  you'll  give  up  that  fishing  trip  with  Joe  and 
me?" 

"  Looks  like  it.  The  job  may  take  all  summer,  from 
the  sound  of  that  telegram." 


176  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  You're  good  stuff,  Bradford.  Go  ahead.  It's  the 
thing  to  do.  But  let  me  say  one  word.  When  you  get 
there,  don't  talk.  And  before  you  go,  don't  talk.  And 
when  you  come  back,  don't  talk.  A  silent  tongue  will 
never  land  a  man  in  a  fool's  paradise." 

"  All  right.  I'll  remember.  And  apropos  of  that, 
Ansley,  you  won't  feel  it  necessary  now  to  say  any- 
thing more  than  you  have  in  the  past  about  my — my 
father's  identity  ?  .You  see,  I  promised  him  it  shouldn't 
be  known  here.  You  can  understand  why  he  was 
ashamed,  in  view  of  all  the  past." 

"  Surely  ;  I'll  hold  my  tongue.  But  it  would  be  a 
good  deal  better  for  you  if  I  didn't." 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there.  A  promise  is  a 
promise,  more  than  ever  when  it's  to  a  dead  man.  Any- 
way, I'm  getting  along  all  right.  Did  you  know  the 
directors  of  the  seminary  have  doubled  my  pay  ?  " 

"  So  I  heard.  You  deserve  it.  You're  surely  com- 
ing back,  my  boy  ?  " 

Bradford  assured  him  of  it  and  said  good-bye.  Two 
days  later,  alighting  from  the  train  at  Glencoe,  he  was 
met  by  his  brother-in-law. 

"  Good  boy,"  said  Yanderbosch  with  a  hearty  greet- 
ing. "  We've  got  a  pretty  tangle  here." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  send  for  me  ?  Mother 
wouldn't " 

"  Oh,  mother's  away — in  California,  visiting. 
Where's  your  luggage  ?  " 

"  I've  only  a  bag.  I'll  take  it  up  to  the  inn  and  then 
come  on  over  to  the  house." 

"  The  inn  ?  Now,  that  won't  do,  Bradford.  Mother 
isn't  there,  you  know,  and  Anna  has  your  room  all  ready. 
Why,  you'd  hurt  her  worse  than  the  failure." 

That  night  and  the  following  morning  they  told  him 


WRECKED  BANK— RESTORED  MAN     1YT 

about  the  state  of  things.  The  wreck  of  the  bank  was 
as  complete  and  ruinous  as  it  was  sudden.  It  had  been 
precipitated,  Conrad  said,  by  his  discovery  in  a  round- 
about way  that  the  president  and  cashier  had  been 
making  ventures  in  "Wall  Street.  "With  suspicions 
aroused  as  to  the  integrity  of  the  management,  and 
concerned  for  the  interest  of  his  wife,  Vanderbosch  had 
suggested  a  partition  of  the  estate.  It  had  never  been 
divided,  and  Thomas  Horton,  the  executor,  was  far  too 
•closely  allied  in  business  with  the  bank  officials  to  suit 
Vanderbosch.  He  had  been  a  large  borrower  at  the 
bank,  and  to  secure  this  accommodation  had  been  com- 
pelled to  indorse  for  the  president  and  cashier  in  their 
schemes.  He  met  his  brother-in-law's  suggestion  with 
the  advice  that  he  mind  his  own  business,  but  shortly 
after  a  check  of  his,  used  by  his  sister,  was  returned  to 
her  marked  "  No  funds." 

This  was  the  climax ;  and  when  another  appeal  to 
Thomas  Horton  brought  only  another  rebuff,  Vander- 
bosch had  notified  the  controller  of  the  currency  that 
in  his  opinion  the  bank  was  being  looted  by  its  officers. 
A  bank  examiner  was  on  the  scene  speedily,  and  two 
days  after  his  appearance  early  passers  were  surprised 
to  see  a  placard  on  the  bank  door,  reading,  "  Bank 
Closed  by  Order  of  the  Controller  of  the  Currency. — 
Anthony  Cathcart,  Special  Agent." 

"  Of  course  it  caused  a  terrible  uproar,"  Conrad  went 
on.  "  Before  noon  it  was  reported  for  miles  around, 
and  there  was  the  usual  crowd  that  collects  at  such 
times — everybody  wanting  his  money  and  nobody  able 
to  get  it." 

"  Oh,  it  was  dreadful,  Bradford,"  Anna  broke  in.  "  I 
was  so  sorry  for  the  poor  people.  And  we  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  ourselves,  for  we'd  hardly  a  cent." 


178  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  You  said  in  your  message  the  cashier  was  dead  ?  " 
Bradford  asked. 

"Found  dead  in  his  barn  next  day — suicide,  of 
course.  When  the  books  were  examined  they  were 
found  most  irregular,  and  they  put  the  teller  and  the 
bookkeeper  in  jail.  Tom  disappeared  the  first  day — 
we've  heard  nothing  of  him  since.  Cathcart  wanted 
an  assistant  to  straighten  out  the  books,  and  we  thought 
of  you  at  once,  so  I  telegraphed.  That's  all,  I  guess." 

"  It's  enough.     Conrad,  what  have  you  to  live  on  ?  " 

"  My  income." 

"  That  won't  be  enough." 

"  Enough  or  not,  it's  all  we  have." 

"  How  long  has  mother  been  away  ?  " 

"  Three  months — we  don't  know  when  she  will  get 
home." 

Bradford  asked  no  more  questions.  Before  noon  he 
was  installed  as  bookkeeper  for  the  receiver  at  one  hun- 
dred dollars  a  month,  with  the  understanding  that  he 
could  stay  but  three  months.  Beginning  work  on  the 
account  of  the  Henry  Horton  estate,  he  found  in  a  day 
or  two  that  it  was  largely  overdrawn  and  the  overdraft 
secured  by  the  valueless  notes  of  his  brother  Thomas, 
so  that  Anna  and  his  mother  were  practically  penniless. 
That  night  he  handed  Anna  his  own  draft.  "  That 
will  get  mother  home,"  he  said  simply.  "  But  don't 
tell  her  where  it  came  from."  The  money  represented 
his  savings  for  the  past  year. 

For  weeks  Bradford  toiled  early  and  late,  earnestly, 
sometimes  almost  discouraged.  Out  of  his  salary  he 
helped  to  meet  the  running  expense  of  the  big  house, 
so  that  matters  went  on  quite  smoothly,  Conrad's  in- 
come being  materially  increased  by  his  engagement  as 
attorney  for  Mr.  Cathcart.  After  Mrs.  Horton's  ar- 


WRECKED  BANK— RESTORED  MAN     179 

rival,  her  son  moved  his  headquarters  to  the  Inwood 
Inn,  and  no  persuasion  from  his  sister  could  make  him 
change  his  mind.  Night  and  day  the  young  man 
worked,  until  Cathcart  saw  that  he  was  growing  pale 
and  thin,  and  that  the  three  months  would  be  gone  be- 
fore the  work  was  done. 

"  Mr.  Horton,"  he  said  one  morning,  "  this  will  never 
do.  We  must  have  more  help.  I  am  not  dissatisfied, 
but  I  fear  for  your  health.  I  can  get  a  man  from 
Washington,  but  prefer  to  get  one  nearer,  if  you  know 
of  any  one." 

"  I  do,"  said  Bradford.    "  I  know  of  a  good  one." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  Albany." 

"  Experienced  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Knows  bank  work  ?  " 

"Perfectly." 

"What  is  his  address?" 

Bradford  gave  it.  "  I  have  one  request  to  make,"  he 
added.  "  Don't  suggest  to  him  that  I  gave  you  his 
name." 

The  receiver  agreed,  and  at  once  entered  into  cor- 
respondence with  the  Albany  man.  As  a  result,  one 
morning  B.  Oren-Toole  walked  into  the  Glencoe  County 
National  Bank. 

Bradford  was  working  in  the  main  banking  room. 
He  turned  to  see  who  had  entered,  but  gave  no  sign  of 
recognition.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Is  there  a  Mr.  Cathcart  here  ?  "  In  his  heart  Oren- 
Toole  thought  he  had  been  trapped,  but  he  gave  no 
hint  of  it. 

"  Yes ;  he  is  in  the  inner  office.  Who  shall  I  say 
wishes  to  see  him  ?  " 


180  BRADFORD  IIORTON  :  MAN 

The  caller  gave  his  name,  and  on  Bradford's  return 
was  shown  in  to  Mr.  Cathcart.  In  a  half-hour  they 
emerged  together,  and  the  receiver  introduced  Mr. 
Oren-Toole. 

"  I  have  hired  him  as  assistant  for  you.  Go  over  the 
books  with  him." 

Oren-Toole  had  never  been  so  uncomfortable  in  his 
whole  life  as  at  that  moment.  He  followed  Horton's 
lead  through  the  work  that  had  already  been  done, 
asking  few  questions,  but  comprehending  instantly  the 
extent  of  the  ruin  and  its  causes. 

All  that  day  the  two  men  worked  in  silence,  broken 
only  by  the  questions  asked  by  the  newcomer  for  in- 
formation. The  receiver  took  the  new  clerk  with  him 
when  he  went  to  his  midday  meal,  and  in  that  interval 
from  business  attempted  to  learn  something  of  his 
history,  but  without  much  success.  Oren-Toole  had 
learned  from  some  source  the  maxim  of  Ansley  Jickers. 
But  within  a  week  Cathcart  had  seen  for  himself  that 
neither  he  nor  Horton  knew  anything  more  about  bank- 
ing than  did  Oren-Toole. 

"  What's  your  game,  Drum  ?"  Thus  the  new  clerk 
addressed  Bradford  a  few  days  after  his  arrival.  Re- 
ceiving no  answer,  he  renewed  his  question.  "  I  say, 
Drum,  what's  your  game  ? "  Once  more  there  was 
dead  silence  at  the  other  desk,  and  neither  man  spoke 
again  for  the  rest  of  the  morning. 

Nonplused,  but  still  an  Irishman,  Oren-Toole  resolved 
to  try  new  tactics.  Next  day,  in  his  pleasantest  man- 
ner, "  What  is  your  game,  Mr.  Horton  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'm  playing  no  game.  What  makes  you  think  I 
am?" 

"  The  fact  that  you  sent  Mr.  Cathcart  after  me.  I 
suppose  this  is  the  first  move  towards  trapping  me." 


WRECKED  BANK— RESTORED  MAN     181 

"  Wrong  supposition,  Oren-Toole." 

"  Why  didn't  you  answer  me  yesterday  when  I  asked 
you  that  question  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  recollection  of  your  speaking  to  me  yes- 
terday." 

"  I  did.     I  asked  you  this  same  question  twice." 

"  Well,  to  be  frank  with  you,  I  heard  you  ask  the 
question  twice,  but  as  it  was  not  addressed  to  me,  I 
paid  no  attention." 

"  Not  addressed  to  you  ?    Isn't  your  name  Drum  * '' 

"  No." 

"  Wasn't  that  old  chap's  name  Drum  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  what  was  it  ?  " 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  it  was  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  his  name  was  Andrew  Drum,  and  that 
you  were  his  son.  I  suppose  the  whole  story  was  a  lie. 
I  never  believed  him." 

"  No,  not  the  whole.     I  am  the  son  of  that  old  man." 

"  Well,  what's  your  name,  then  ?  " 

"  As  you  know,  my  name  is  Horton.  I  treated  my 
father  in  a  very  unfilial  sort  of  way  when  I  shipped 
him  off  with  that  money,  but  it  was  lucky  for  you  I 
did.  If  I'd  kept  him  over  night  and  my  room  had 
been  searched  in  the  morning,  where  would  you  b« 
now  ?  " 

Oren-Toole  subsided  uncomfortably  into  silence,  not, 
however,  entirely  satisfied  about  Horton  and  his  inten- 
tions. Late  that  afternoon  he  could  bear  his  uncer- 
tainty no  longer. 

"  Say,  if  that  old  chap  was  your  father,"  he  asked 
abruptly,  "how  do  you  come  by  your  name?  If  It 
anything  to  do  with  these  folks  here  ?  " 

"  My  name   is  that  of   my  adopted  fathtr,  Henry 


182  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

Horton,  the  founder  and  first  president  of  this  bank. 
Thomas  Horton  is  his  son." 

"  So  that's  it.     You  might  have  said  so  at  first." 

"  I  had  not  the  heart,"  said  Bradford  with  a  smile, 
"to  deprive  you  of  the  pleasure  of  asking  questions, 
Mr.  Oren-Toole." 

The  other  laughed  with  a  mixture  of  pique  and  cha- 
grin. "  Did  you  send  Cathcart  after  me  ?  "  he  asked 
presently. 

"  He  asked  if  I  knew  of  a  competent  bank  clerk  who 
could  help  him  here,  and  I  gave  him  your  name." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"  To  help  Mr.  Cathcart  out,  and  to  help  you  to  be  a 
man." 

Oren-Toole  was  silent  for  a  half -hour.  It  is  safe  to 
say  that  he  did  more  thinking  than  he  had  ever  done 
before  in  an  equal  time.  How  his  thoughts  ran  ap- 
peared when  he  next  spoke. 

"  Why  didn't  Elmore  and  Maxwell  go  after  me  when 
they  found  where  I  was  ?  " 

"  I  had  previously  asked  them,  if  they  ever  did  learn 
where  you  were,  not  to  go  after  you,  and  they  had 
agreed  not  to  do  so." 

"What  made  you  do  that?"  Oren-Toole  could 
hardly  believe  his  ears. 

"  Well,  for  two  or  three  reasons.  You  did  not  mean 
to  steal  that  money ;  you  meant  to  have  it  appear  that 
I  stole  it.  The  money  was  not  lost ;  it  was  all  returned 
to  the  bank.  The  only  person  hurt  in  any  way  was 
myself,  and  I  was  not  willing  to  have  you  sent  to  state's 
prison  on  my  account.  That  would  have  made  a  crim- 
inal of  you,  and  there's  too  good  stuff  in  you  to  make  a 
criminal  of.  You're  going  to  be  a  straightforward  sort 
of  a.  man  hereafter,  I  reckon." 


WRECKED  BANK— RESTORED  MAN     183 

There  was  another  silence,  while  Horton  wondered 
how  Oren-Toole  would  begin  his  next  attempt.  He 
was  not  kept  wondering  long. 

"The  old  man  got  away  with  part  of  that  money 
on  a  big  spree  in  Albany.  They  could  have  held  me 
liable  for  that." 

"  It  was  returned  to  the  bank." 

"  Who  paid  it  back  ?    You  ?  " 

"Yes." 

When  his  assistant  came  in  next  morning  Bradford 
was  already  at  work. 

"  Oren-Toole,"  he  began,  "  will  you " 

"  Oh,  cut  it  out,  Horton,  cut  it  out !  " 

"  I  don't  understand.     Cut  what  out  ?  " 

"  That  Oren-Toole  business.  My  name's  not  Oren- 
Toole,  any  more  than  yours  is  Drum.  I'm  just  Barney 
O'Toole,  a  red-headed  Irishman.  I  fooled  the  Preston- 
bury  crowd,  but  I  can't  keep  it  up  with  you." 

One  of  Bradford's  hands  was  on  Barney's  shoulder, 
while  the  other  held  the  Irishman's  in  a  hearty  clasp. 
"  That's  worth  while.  That's  a  big  step  towards  man- 
hood. It's  a  clear  path  now,  Barney."  The  bars  be- 
tween the  two  were  down  at  last. 

"  You  can  count  on  me,"  said  the  clerk,  "  till  your 
dying  day,  Mr.  Horton." 

"  I'm  Bradford,  Barney,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

So  began  a  friendship  that  is  still  the  talk  of  Preston- 
bury. 

At  noon,  as  Barney  went  out  for  lunch,  Bradford 
handed  him  a  note.  "  Will  you  leave  this  at  the  Hor- 
ton house  as  you  pass  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  messenger  found  Mrs.  Horton  and  her  daughter 
on  the  porch,  and  handed  the  missive  to  Mrs.  Vander- 
bosch. 


184  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  What  is  that,  Anna  ?  "  inquired  her  mother  \rhen 
he  had  gone. 

"  A  note  from  Bradford." 

"  Oh  ! "  very  coldly.     "  Anything  particular  ? )r 

"  Only  our  week's  money." 

"  Money  ?   Our  week's  money  ?   What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Then  followed  the  whole  story  of  Bradford's  gener- 
osity, which  the  mother  had  not  heard  before. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  asked  finally, "  that  Brad- 
ford sent  me  the  money  to  come  back  from  California  ? '' 

When  Anna  answered  "  Yes,"  the  mother  said  no 
more.  But  in  the  afternoon  Conrad  Vanderbosch  car- 
ried a  note  to  the  bank,  and  that  night  Bradford  dined 
at  the  old  house.  Mother  and  son  spent  the  evening 
together  in  her  room.  What  happened  in  the  interview 
neither  ever  told,  but  Rosalie  Horton  came  from  it  a 
chastened,  softened  woman,  and  Bradford  moved  back 
from  Inwood  Inn  to  his  old  room  next  day. 

"  Conrad,"  said  Anna,  "  this  bank  failure  has  been  the 
happiest  event  since  we  were  married.  The  breach  be- 
tween Bradford  and  mother  is  closed  forever.  We  are 
all  one  again  now,  but  Thomas.  Poor  Thomas !  I 
wonder  where  he  is  ?  " 


XIX 
A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION 


"TV    If  R  MAXWELL>  wil1  this  bank  lend  me  aix 
\l  I     thousand  dolkrs  ?  " 

-L  v  JL     "  What's  up  ?    Going  into  business  ?  " 

"  No,  I  want  to  buy  a  house." 

"  Going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Married  ?  I  should  say  not  !  I  just  want  to  buy  a 
house." 

"  What's  the  security  ?  " 

"  The  house.  It's  worth  ten  thousand  dollars.  It's 
my  mother's,  gone  down  in  the  wreck  of  the  Glencoe 
Bank,  and  I  don't  want  her  turned  out-of-doors." 

"  When  do  you  want  the  money  ?  " 

"  In  October." 

"  I'll  put  the  matter  into  Ansley's  hands  —  he's  our 
attorney.  If  he  says  it's  all  right  I'll  see  you  through." 

"Good,"  said  Bradford.     "That'll  be  satisfactory." 

Ten  days  later  Ansley  Jickers  sent  for  him.  It  was 
now  the  last  week  in  September  and  Bradford  had  been 
back  in  Prestonbury  almost  a  month. 

"  I've  looked  up  that  house  matter,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  Going  to  be  sold  at  auction,  I  learn.  You  want  to  bid 
it  in,  eh  ?  "  Bradford  assented,  and  the  other  went  on, 
"  I've  been  through  the  title,  too.  Title's  all  right,  but 
the  valuation  is  too  high." 

"  It's  one  of  the  best  houses  in  Glencoe,  Ansley.  It 
cost  twice  that  appraisement  to  build." 

186 


186  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  No  doubt.  But  the  question  with  real  estate  is  not 
what  went  into  it  but  what  you  can  get  out.  "When  a 
man  wants  a  house,  that  house  can  get  what  it  thinks 
itself  worth ;  but  when  a  house  wants  a  man,  it  can 
only  get  what  the  man  chooses  to  give.  You  put  a 
six-thousand-dollar  mortgage  on  that  house  and  you'll 
never  get  your  money  out  of  it." 

"  That's  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  put  it  in.  I'm 
not  going  into  a  real  estate  deal." 

"  Don't  you  mean  to  sell,  some  day  ?  " 

"  No.  You  know  I  mean  to  give  that  house  to  my 
mother." 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  also  know  something  that  you 
don't ;  namely,  you're  not  going  to  Glencoe  to  buy  that 
house." 

"Who  is?" 

"  I  am.  You  would  get  rattled.  The  moment  the 
house  was  put  up  you  would  bid  six  thousand  dollars. 
Everybody  knows  you  in  Glencoe.  Some  fellows  would 
say,  '  I  told  you  so.  Those  Hortons  have  money  hid 
away,  and  I'll  make  them  come  down  with  more.' 
Then  he  would  overbid  you  and  where  would  you  be  ?  " 

Bradford  saw  the  point.  "  That's  so,  Ansley ;  but  I 
hate  to  bother  you." 

"  Bother  be  hanged,"  growled  the  lawyer.  "  What's 
friendship  for  ?  " 

The  two  men  talked  for  an  hour,  and  when  Bradford 
left  the  lawyer  knew  the  main  features  of  the  situation. 
Two  hundred  and  forty-five  acres  of  the  Horton  farm 
would  be  sold  first ;  then  the  big  house  and  five  acres 
adjoining ;  then  Mrs.  Rosalie  Horton's  town  house. 
He  also  learned  that  the  claim  of  the  bank  against  the 
Horton  estate  on  account  of  bank  stock  assessment  was 
forty  thousand  eight  hundred  dollars.  His  last  words 


A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION     187 

to  Bradford  were,  "  Don't  you  tell  a  soul  on  earth  what 
is  in  your  mind." 

Two  days  later  they  met  on  the  street.  "  I  forgot," 
said  Bradford,  "  to  tell  you  that  Oren-Toole  is  with  the 
receiver  of  the  Glencoe  Bank.  He  came  in  a  short  time 
before  I  left.  Mr.  Cathcart  brought  him  to  me  one  day 
and  introduced  him  as  B.  Oren-Toole.  Naturally  we 
talked  some,  and  one  day  when  I  had  addressed  him  as 
'  Oren-Toole,'  he  broke  out,  *  Cut  that  out,  Horton.  I'm 
just  Barney  O'Toole,  a  red-headed  Irishman.' ' 

"  He  did  ?  That's  good.  He's  coming  to  his  senses. 
Bradford,  I  am  not  much  influenced  by  likes  and  dis- 
likes, but  I  must  say  I  never  saw  that  teller  that  I 
didn't  want  to  kick  him  out  of  the  bank." 

"Why?" 

"  For  shamming  so.  I've  known  all  about  him  and 
his  history  for  years.  B.  Oren-Toole!  My,  what  a 
fool  a  fool  can  be  when  he  really  wants  to  be  a  fool ! 
Why,  the  little  red-headed,  freckle-faced  boy  was  as 
plain  in  him  in  evening  clothes  as  when  he  used  to  run 
barefoot  with  the  pigs  at  Devil's  Spring." 

"  So  you  knew  when  he  was  teller  that  he  was  Barney 
O'Toole  ?  Ansley,  is  there  anything  you  don't  know  ?  " 

"  Nothing  about  Barney.     Good-bye." 

The  immediate  result  of  that  conversation  was  a  let- 
ter from  Ansley  to  Oren-Toole,  Glencoe,  which  brought 
surprise  to  its  recipient.  "  I  shall  drop  in  at  the  bank 
some  day,"  wrote  Ansley.  "  When  I  do,  be  sure  not 
to  recognize  me,  or  make  any  sign  that  you  ever  saw 
me.  I  will  see  you  the  same  night  in  my  room  at  the 
In  wood  Inn."  What  was  the  game,  Barney  wondered 
as  he  read. 

A  few  mornings  later  he  saw  Ansley  pass  the  bank 
window  and  did  not  turn  around  to  see  who  the  caller 


188  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

was  when  the  bank  door  opened.  He  heard  the  ques- 
tion, "  Is  Mr.  Cathcart  in  ?  "  and  he  answered  without 
turning,  "  Yes.  Pass  into  the  inner  office." 

Cathcart  looked  up  as  the  stranger  presented  his  card. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Jickers  ?  " 

"  I  understand  there  is  to  be  a  sheriff's  sale  to  satisfy 
a  judgment  decree  against  the  estate  of  Henry  Horton, 
deceased." 

"  Yes  ;  the  sale  is  advertised  for  to-morrow." 

"  The  property  consists  of  a  farm  and  two  houses  ; 
and  the  amount  of  the  claim  is  forty  thousand  eight 
hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  That  is  correct." 

"  Will  the  property  bring  that  ?  " 

"No." 

"  What  mil  the  farm  bring,  probably  ?  " 

"  Twelve  or  thirteen  thousand  dollars.  I  have  offered 
it  to  a  man  who  says  he  means  to  buy  it.  He  refused 
my  offer  on  the  ground  that  he  can  buy  it  more  cheaply 
at  auction." 

"Suppose  some  one  should  go  above  thirteen  thou- 
sand— what  then  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  man  would  go  above  the  bidder." 

"  Will  the  dwellings  be  up  before  or  after  the  farm  ?  " 

"  Afterwards.     The  large  one  first." 

"  What  will  they  bring  ?  " 

"  The  two  ?    Oh,  perhaps  fifteen  thousand  dollars." 

"  Will  you  sell  me  that  large  house  ?  " 

"  No.  It  will  have  to  go  under  the  hammer.  I  have 
a  customer  who  has  wanted  it  for  a  summer  hotel  for  a 
long  time.  I  offered  it  to  him  for  fifteen  thousand,  but 
he  said  he  could  buy  it  at  auction  better." 

"  Your  customer  would  have  done  well  to  take  your 
offer.  He  will  not  get  it  for  that  now." 


A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION      189 

"  Are  you  a  bidder  ?  " 

"  "Well,  I  represent  a  man  who  has  had  his  eye  on 
that  house  for  a  long  time.  I  have  heard  him  say  it  is 
worth  twenty  thousand  dollars.  I  must  tell  you  that  I 
intend  to  further  the  interests  of  my  client  in  every 
way  possible." 

"  Then  do  I  understand  that  you  will  bid  twenty 
thousand  for  that  property  ?  " 

"•  I  did  not  say  I  should.  But  I  will  say  your  cus- 
tomer will  not  get  it  for  a  song." 

His  talk  with  the  receiver  finished,  Ansley  Jickers 
proceeded  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Horton  and  her  daughter, 
introducing  himself  simply  as  a  friend  of  Bradford. 
The  elder  lady,  quick  to  recognize  a  man  of  no  ordinary 
rank  and  breeding,  made  him  welcome,  with  a  little 
added  touch  to  her  appreciation  of  Bradford,  if  such  a 
man  as  this  was  numbered  among  his  friends. 

"  When  did  you  see  my  boy  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Is  he 
quite  well  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  two  days  ago,  madam,  and  he  was  in  ex- 
cellent health." 

"  You  are  kind  to  call,  Mr.  Jickers,"  said  Anna. 
"  We  are  always  glad  to  hear  directly  from  Bradford." 

The  conversation  ran  on  easily,  touching  oftenest  on 
Bradford's  nobility  of  character,  while  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  the  talk  the  lawyer  was  thinking,  "  The  old  lady 
doesn't  mean  to  admit  that  he's  not  her  own,  now  he's 
turned  out  so  well.  She  doesn't  know  how  much  I 
know."  And  in  the  mother's  mind  the  thought  re- 
peated itself,  "  Then  my  letter  did  not  harm  him,  if 
men  like  this  are  his  friends.  Oh,  I  am  thankful !  " 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  since  you  live  in 
Prestonbury  you  are  acquainted  with  a  Mr.  Elmore — 
Richard  P.  Elmore.  Is  he  still  living  ?  " 


190  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  Very  much  so,  madam.  Just  now,  however,  he  is 
abroad  and  will  not  return  for  a  year  yet.  I  infer  you 
may  have  known  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  many  years  ago." 

"  It  is  strange  that  Bradford  should  not  have  men- 
tioned him,"  proceeded  Ansley,  enjoying  his  own 
duplicity.  He  knew  why  his  friend  had  not  mentioned 
the  subject.  "  He  prepared  his  grandson  for  Yale,  and 
has  his  room  at  present  in  the  home  of  the  boy's  mother, 
young  Mrs.  Elmore." 

Anna  replied  before  her  mother  could.  "  Oh,  he 
told  us  of  the  boy  he  tutored,  and  of  what  a  delightful 
home  he  had,  but  he  never  mentioned  the  name." 

Mrs.  Horton  let  the  conversation  slip  away  from  her, 
while  over  and  over  in  her  mind  she  gave  thanks  that 
her  letter  had  done  no  harm.  None  the  less,  when  the 
caller  was  gone,  she  sat  down  and  spent  an  hour  or 
more  on  a  letter  to  Mr.  Elmore,  which  she  inclosed 
in  a  note  to  Ansley  Jickers  at  his  Prestonbury  address. 

"I  intrust  to  you  the  inclosed  letter,"  she  wrote. 
"  Please  do  not  deliver  it  while  I  am  living."  To  her- 
self she  added,  "  There  is  no  need  for  him  to  know,  at 
least  for  Bradford's  sake.  The  letter  did  no  harm." 

Punctually  at  midnight  Barney  O'Toole  knocked  at 
the  door  of  the  lawyer's  room  in  the  Inwood  Inn. 
Ansley  went  straight  to  the  heart  of  his  business. 

"  I  asked  you  to  meet  me  at  this  late  hour,  Mr.  Oren- 
Toole " 

"  Drop  it,  Mr.  Jickers.  I  am  Barney  O'Toole.  That 
student  of  yours,  that  singer,  that  whatever,  whoever 
he  is,  has  jolted  the  Oren-Toole  out  of  me.  I've  been 
shamming  on  the  name  business  for  a  good  while,  but 
I've  quit." 

"  Good,  Barney.    I  knew  your  father.    I  knew  when 


A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION     191 

you  moved  your  mother  into  town.  I've  known 
all  about  you,  of  course.  But  that  isn't  what  we're 
here  for  now.  I'm  here  to  save  for  Mrs.  Horton  all 
that  can  be  saved  out  of  this  wreck,  and  I  want  your 
help." 

"All  right.     I'll  help." 

"The  farm  must  sell  for  seventy  dollars  an  acre. 
Henry  Horton  always  held  it  at  a  hundred." 

"  That  would  make  seventeen  thousand  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars,  Mr.  Jickers." 

"  Those  are  my  figures.  Now,  the  big  house  must 
bring  twenty  thousand  dollars  and  the  small  one  four 
thousand." 

"  That's  more  than  the  whole  claim,  Mr.  Jickers," 
said  Barney  in  surprise. 

"  Of  course.  More  is  always  better  than  less,  when 
it  comes  to  paying  debts.  Our  job,  you  see,  is  to  get 
those  prices.  There's  an  old  farmer  here,  I'm  told,  who 
wants  the  farm,  and  I  know  some  one  who  will  bid  the 
property  up  till  the  price  that  farmer  offers  reaches  my 
figure." 

"  Good.    And  where  do  I  come  in  ?  " 

"  Presently.  I'll  bid  on  the  big  house  myself  and 
make  it  sell  for  the  twenty  thousand  dollars.  And  I 
want  you  to  buy  the  small  one." 

"I  see.  "Well,  I've  no  money  to  buy  houses  with 
myself,  but  I  think  I  see  your  game.  Horton's  trying 
to  save  that  house  for  his  mother,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  As  to  money,  here's  your  four  thousand 
dollars.  Keep  cool  to-morrow  and  don't  get  rattled. 
Start  the  bidding  low  and  keep  it  low  for  a  while. 
There'll  be  some  one  bidding  against  you,  but  when  you 
say  four  thousand  the  hammer  will  fall  like  a  shot. 
You  can  hold  your  tongue  ?  " 


192  BKADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  Sure." 

"Then  we're  started  in  good  shape.  Money  all 
there  ?  "  as  Barney,  with  the  banking  instinct,  began 
to  count  it.  His  signature  to  the  receipt  for  it  closed 
an  evening's  work  very  satisfactorily  to  Ansley  Jickers. 

The  summer  hotel  man,  arriving  from  New  York, 
had  been  informed  by  Cathcart  on  that  same  evening 
that  he  had  a  competitor  on  the  ground  ready  to  pay 
twenty  thousand  dollars  for  the  big  house. 

"  "Well,"  he  said  with  a  shrug,  "  if  he  gets  that  house 
he'll  pay  more  than  twenty  thousand  for  it." 

An  auction  of  farm  property  was  always  an  event  to 
bring  into  town  farmers  from  all  directions,  and  such  a 
sale  as  this  of  the  Horton  estate  was  most  unusual. 
Glencoe  was  crowded  with  those  who  wished  to  watch 
the  bidding. 

No  one  ever  knew  what  started  Donald  Cameron, 
proprietor  of  the  In  wood  Inn,  bidding  on  the  farm.  No 
sooner  had  Alanson  Williams  made  the  first  bid  of  five 
thousand  dollars  than  Cameron  cried,  before  the  auc- 
tioneer could  repeat  the  offer,  "  Six  thousand."  There 
was  an  astonished  buzzing  in  the  crowd,  while  the 
auctioneer  rattled  on,  and  after  three  minutes,  which 
seemed  many  times  longer,  a  third  bid  was  heard. 
"  Eight  thousand  dollars ! "  called  Williams. 

"  Nine,"  said  Cameron. 

"  What's  that  Scotchman  got  into  his  head  ?  "  asked 
Williams  of  a  neighbour. 

"  Trying  to  bother  you  for  a  Welshman,  probably." 

"  I'd  let  him  have  it  if  it  didn't  join  my  farm.  Any- 
how, he'd  put  it  on  the  market  by  and  by  and  make  a 
lot  of  money  on  it,  and  by  gracious  he  shan't  do  it. 
I'll  beat  him  out — I  want  it  myself.  Eleven  thousand  !  " 
he  called,  and  as  that  bid  was  raised  another  thousand, 


A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION      193 

ventured  a  sum  that  he  thought  would  end  the  bidding. 
"  Fifteen  thousand  !  "  he  said  with  an  air  of  finality. 
The  move  was  rash.  "  Sixteen  thousand,"  said  Donald 
Cameron  quietly. 

Pale  under  his  tan  and  with  grim  determination  in 
his  voice,  Williams  raised  the  price  by  five  hundred 
dollars.  Then,  "Seventeen  thousand,"  said  Cameron, 
still  quietly. 

Williams  almost  lost  his  nerve.  He  hesitated.  But 
the  thought,  "  Shall  I  let  that  whiskey-selling  Scotch- 
man beat  me  ? "  turned  the  scale,  and  unflinching  he 
cried,  "  Seventeen  thousand  five  hundred  !  " 

"  Kaise  him,  Donald,  raise  him !  "  came  the  cry  from 
the  crowd  as  a  pause  followed.  But  Donald  Cameron 
had  fulfilled  his  mission,  and  the  farm  was  knocked 
down  to  the  last  bidder.  Ansley  Jickers  had  won  the 
first  move  in  the  game. 

The  big  house  was  next  put  up.  "I'm  offered 
five  thousand  dollars,"  called  the  auctioneer,  "  for  the 
Henry  Horton  home  and  five  acres  of  land.  That  offer 
is  absurd.  It  cost  forty  thousand  to  build,  and  I'm 
offered  five  thousand.  Five  thousand,  five " 

"  Fifteen  thousand ! "  called  Ansley  Jickers. 

"  Fifteen  thousand,"  echoed  the  auctioneer.  "  Now 
you're  coming  to  your  senses,  gentlemen.  That  sounds 
like  business.  Who's  the  bidder  ?  " 

Ansley  raised  his  hand.  Cathcart,  who  stood  by  the 
auctioneer,  spoke  to  him  in  a  tone  not  heard  by  the 
crowd. 

"All  right,"  said  the  auctioneer.  "A  responsible 
man  bids  fifteen  thousand.  Fifteen  thousand,  fifteen 
thousand,  fifteen,  fifteen,  going  at  fifteen " 

"  One  hundred  ! "  cried  a  bidder. 

"  Fifteen  one,  fifteen  one,  going  at  fifteen  one " 


194  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  Two  hundred  ! "  called  the  New  York  man. 

"  Sixteen  thousand !  "  cried  Ansley  Jickers  in  a  high 
voice,  and  apparently  much  excited.  "  Sixteen  thou- 
sand, I  say ! " 

Steadily  the  song  of  the  auctioneer  went  on.  "  Six- 
teen thousand,  sixteen  thousand ;  no  more  bids  ? 
Where's  your  sand,  gentlemen  ?  Going  at  sixteen  thou- 
sand one  ;  going  at  sixteen  thousand  two " 

"  Sixteen  thousand  one  hundred ! "  cried  a  voice. 
Ansley  Jickers  paid  no  heed  to  that.  But  the  New 
Yorker  did.  He  was  growing  excited  and  weary,  and 
he  thought  one  more  bid  might  end  it.  "  Seventeen 
thousand ! "  he  called. 

But  no  sooner  were  the  words  repeated  by  the 
auctioneer  than  Ansley  Jickers  rushed  wildly  up  to  the 
stand,  and  shaking  his  fist  in  the  seller's  face  yelled, 
"  Nineteen  thousand,  do  you  hear  ?  Nineteen  thou- 
sand ! " 

There  was  a  hum  in  the  throng  and  then  a  cheer. 
The  move  had  the  effect  Ansley  anticipated.  The  New 
Yorker  lost  his  head.  He  wanted  the  matter  ended. 
Striding  out  into  the  little  open  space  before  the 
auctioneer's  stand,  he  stood  glaring  at  his  opponent  for 
a  moment,  then  roared  out,  "  Twenty  thousand,  twenty 
thousand  ;  I  tell  you,  twenty  thousand  ! " 

The  auctioneer  was  happy.  He  had  not  been  a 
party  to  such  lively  work  for  a  long  time.  He  rattled 
off  his  calls  with  great  volubility,  expecting  to  hear  the 
competitor  call  twenty-one  thousand.  But  no;  there 
was  no  response  to  his  vociferous  appeals.  "Once, 
gentlemen,  twice,  and — sold  for  twenty  thousand,"  and 
the  hammer  fell. 

Cathcart  spoke  to  the  auctioneer.  "  These  two  sales 
make  thirty-seven  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  The 


A  HIGHLY  SUCCESSFUL  AUCTION      195 

whole  claim  is  less  than  forty-one  thousand.  If  that 
other  house  brings  four  thousand  it  will  cover  all  costs. 
Knock  it  down  at  four  thousand."  At  which  price  it 
went  to  Barney  O'Toole. 

That  night  Donald  Cameron  gave  his  wife  twenty- 
five  dollars. 

"  That's  pin  money  for  you.  I  earned  that  to-day  at 
the  auction  by  singing." 

"Singing?" 

"  Yes.  I  bid  a  little  on  the  farm.  A  man  called 
Jickers  said  a  man  who  sang  as  well  as  I  did  ought  to 
have  encouragement." 


XX 
HOUSEMAN  AND  LOVER 

AUSTIN  SLEIGHTON  returned  to  the  seminary 
in  September  a  changed  man.  He  had  spent 
his  vacation  preaching  to  a  mission  congrega- 
tion in  the  town  of  Fairthorne,  Minnesota.  He  had  ac- 
complished three  things  that  satisfied  him  well — proved 
to  himself  that  he  really  had  power  as  a  preacher  ;  be- 
come devoted  as  never  before  to  out-of-door  life  ;  and 
lost  all  the  "  old  young  man  "  manner  which  had  here- 
tofore been  his  characteristic.  Horton  hardly  knew 
him  when  they  met,  so  erect,  so  alert,  so  tanned  by  the 
weather  was  he.  He  would  have  passed  very  well  for 
a  civilized  Indian. 

His  first  move  after  getting  settled  into  work  was  to 
join  the  city's  athletic  club.  At  sight  of  him  one  day 
on  horseback,  Joe  Jickers  was  convulsed,  and  when  he 
appeared  in  a  finely  fitting  custom  made  suit,  Horton 
remonstrated.  "You're  getting  reckless  with  your 
money,  A.  S.,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  it's  my  money,  isn't  it  ?  "  was  the  answer. 
"  I've  never  had  much  to  be  reckless  with  before ;  I 
have  now,  a  little.  Those  Fairthorne  men  were  mighty 
good  to  me." 

"  Just  where  is  Fairthorne  ?  " 

"On  the  southern  edge  of  the  lumber  region  in 
northern  Minnesota.  Great  country  up  there !  A  man 
could  go  into  the  lumber  camps  and  no  person  on  earth 
could  find  him,  unless  by  accident."  It  was  a  random 

196 


HORSEMAN  AND  LOVER 

remark,  but  there  came  a  time  when  Bradford  Horton 
remembered  it. 

It  was  towards  the  last  of  September  when  Jo* 
Jickers  one  day  poured  out  his  soul  to  Bradford  in  re- 
gard to  Sleighton's  transformation.  "  Brad,"  he  said, 
"  that  organist  man  is  a  teetotal  surprise  to  this  court. 
Yes,  sir,  tee ;  yes,  sir,  total ;  that's  what  he  is.  Court 
never  thought  him  anything  but  a  do-re-mi  man;  a 
ten-finger-on-the-keys  man ;  and  here  he  turns  out  to  be 
a  good  red-blooded  fellow ;  a  regular  out-of-doors  fel- 
low ;  a  horseback  fellow.  But  say,  Brad,  tell  him  to 
stop.  Court  will  have  to  adjourn  if  he  doesn't." 

"Stop  what,  J.  J.  ?" 

"Making  athletic  exhibitions  with  the  back  of  a 
horse  for  his  campus." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  J.  J.  ?  " 

"  Haven't  you  seen  the  organist  on  horseback  ?  Then 
you  have  missed  the  best  circus  of  the  century.  On  the 
organ  stool  he's  all  right.  But  on  a  horse !  Tell  him 
to  get  himself  strapped  on  next  time  he  rides.  It'll  be 
better  for  him  to  sit  on  his  horse  strapped  fast  than  to 
have  the  coroner  sit  on  him.  Organists  can't  play  much 
after  coroners  sit  on  'em." 

"  Your  honour,  the  defense  rests,"  laughed  Bradford. 

It  was  that  very  afternoon  when  Bradford,  dropping 
in  at  Sleighton's  room,  found  him  in  a  short  coat,  with 
a  riding  whip  in  his  hand.  "  Where  are  you  going, 
A.  S.  ?  "  he  inquired  guilelessly. 

"  Off  horsebacking,  that's  all." 

"  A.  S.,  I  don't  think  it's  a  bit  social  for  you  to  go 
off  riding  all  alone.  I'd  like  to  go  with  you  if  I  could 
ride,  but  I  could  never  do  it  as  you  do.  I  don't  belier« 
there's  another  man  in  Prestonbury  can  match  you.  A 
wooden  Indian  might,  but  no  living  man." 


198  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"Brad,  are  you  laughing  at  me?"  demanded 
Sleighton. 

"  Why  not  ?  Didn't  you  laugh  at  me  when  you 
pulled  me  out  of  the  snow-bank  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  that  was  different.  You  looked  ridiculous 
then." 

"  Well,  what  about  you  on  a  horse,  A.  S.  ?  Jickers 
says,  '  There's  something  ridiculous  about  the  combina- 
tion of  horse  and  man,  and  it's  not  the  horse.'  He 
says,  '  I've  seen  that  horse  when  Do-Re-Mi  wasn't  on 
him.' " 

"  Jickers  said  that  ?  " 

"  Just  so.  Said  also  that  you'd  better  get  yourself 
strapped  on  or  you'll  go  leap-frog  fashion  over  the 
horse's  head." 

Sleighton  beat  his  leg  with  the  lash  of  the  whip. 
"How'll  I  get  exercise,  then?  I've  got  to  have  out- 
door exercise." 

"  The  lake's  good  exercise.     Come  and  row  with  me.'' 

"  No,  you  don't,  Brad.  I've  been  up,  and  the  boats 
up  there  are  tubs,  the  whole  lot  of  them." 

"  Mine  isn't.     I  know  a  boat  when  I  see  one." 

Though  Sleighton  after  this  relegated  his  riding  whip 
and  boots  to  the  background  where  unused  articles  ac- 
cumulate, it  took  some  days  of  persuasion  and  a  visit 
to  the  boat-house  where  Bradford  kept  his  slender 
St.  Lawrence  River  boat  to  convince  him  that  there 
was  real  sport  to  be  had  on  the  lake,  which  had  be- 
come Horton's  favourite  outing  place.  Bradford  had 
discovered  its  charm  the  year  before  and  had  purchased 
his  boat  in  the  spring.  Night  after  night  he  had  spent 
on  the  water,  alone  or  with  Mrs.  Elmore  or  one  of  the 
Jickers  trio,  rowing  or  paddling  or  drifting  with  the 
evening  breeze  as  twilight  fell.  He  had  made  the 


HORSEMAN  AND  LOVER  199 

acquaintance  of  Joe's  attractive  friend,  Nick  Moon,  and 
had  often  thought  what  an  ideal  place  for  a  summer 
holiday  was  Branscoinbe's  house,  hidden  away  in  the 
trees  on  the  point.  Once  Sleighton  was  converted  into 
willingness  to  accompany,  his  pleasure  in  the  lovely 
sheet  of  water  was  redoubled  and  more  than  once  a 
week  on  until  winter  the  two  launched  their  little  craft 
upon  the  placid  waters. 

One  evening  they  came  up  with  Joe  and  Lucy  Jickers 
and  Alice  Lee.  Joe  caught  sight  of  the  name  on  the 
bow  of  Horton's  boat. 

"  Ghost  of  Blackstone  ! "  he  shouted,  "  what  a  name  ! 
'  Anti-gone ! '  Who's  your  aunty,  son,  and  where's  she 
gone  ?  Where  has  she  gone  ?  " 

Sleighton  was  rowing.  His  oars  missed  the  water, 
and  he  fell  backward  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat, 
laughing  helplessly.  Horton  seized  the  paddle  and 
moved  swiftly  up  to  the  Jickers  party. 

"  Is  that  what  you  call  catching  a  crab,  Mr.  Sleigh- 
ton ?  "  asked  Alice  Lee. 

"  No,  Miss  Lee.  That  is  what  is  called  hitting  the 
bull's-eye,"  replied  Sleighton,  and  again  he  laughed. 

"  Now  what  is  there  to  laugh  at  ?  We  don't  see  any- 
thing funny,"  broke  in  Lucy  Jickers. 

"  No,  you  don't,  but  Horton  does." 

"  Shut  up,  A.  S.,"  said  Bradford,  and  his  face  was  as 
red  as  the  afterglow  in  the  sky.  To  his  relief,  Joe 
struck  in  with  a  brisk  change  of  subject. 

"  Brad,  we're  on  our  way  to  Nick  Moon's,"  he  said. 
"No,  Lucy,  don't  worry  over  the  Do-Re-Mi  man— he'll 
get  over  it.  Come  along,"  turning  back  to  Bradford. 
"  We're  going  for  supper  on  the  shore." 

"  Yes,  do,"  chimed  in  Lucy,  and  Bradford  assented 
gladly. 


200  BKADFOKD  HOKTON :  MAN 

Nick  saw  their  boats  approaching  and  was  waiting 
on  the  shore.  "  Hello,  1827  ! "  he  called  as  they  drew 
into  the  shallows.  "  Evenin',  Miss  Lucy.  Evenin', 
Miss  Alice.  Evenin',  singer.  Come  up  to  the  house. 
Isn't  my  house  good  enough  for  you  ?  Come  on,  every 
one  of  you.  You  go  ahead,  1827.  I'll  pull  up  the 
boats." 

A  cheerier  place  than  Nick  Moon's  porch  could  not 
be  found  anywhere,  and  the  view  was  enchanting. 

The  call  to  supper  drew  them  away  at  last,  reluctant 
though  they  were.  But  Nick's  voice  was  commanding : 

"  You've  seen  sights  like  that  lots  of  times,  but  you've 
never  had  the  chicken  and  waffles  Sally's  got  on  the 
table  now,  and  you'll  never  have  'ein  again.  Come  on  ! 
They're  hot,  and  Sally  don't  like  laggards." 

Austin  Sleighton  sat  beside  Lucy  Jickers,  who  began 
to  talk  at  once. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Mr.  Horton  got  that  boat  ?  " 

"Had  it  sent  down  from  the  St.  Lawrence,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  There,  I  knew  he  did ! "  she  declared  triumphantly. 
"  I  thought  it  looked  like  the  boats  up  there." 

"  Why,  have  you  been  there,  Miss  Jickers  ?  "  Sleigh- 
ton  asked  with  interest. 

"  Of  course.    I  spent  a  whole  summer  at  Gananoque." 

"  May  I  ask  when  ?    What  summer  ?  " 

"Why,  surely."  Lucy  was  at  once  surprised  and 
amused  at  the  young  man's  manner,  it  was  so  frankly 
and  eagerly  inquisitive.  "Summer  before  last,  July 
and  August." 

"  You  ?  That  summer  ?  You  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in 
excitement. 

Lucy  was  really  laughing  now.  "  I  ?  "  she  answered. 
"  Yes,  I.  What's  wrong  with  that  ?  " 


HORSEMAN  AND  LOVER  201 

"  Nothing  wrong.     But  I  didn't  know,  you  know." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Sleighton,  have  you  usually  known  whert 
I  spent  my  summers  ?  " 

"  Ah,  now,  Miss  Jickers,  don't  laugh.  I'm  only  just 
naturally  surprised.  I  thought  I  knew  everybody  in 
the  sleepy  old  village  that  summer,  but  it  seems  I  didn't. 
I  didn't  know  you  were  there.  I  ought  to  have  known 
it,"  he  added  with  regret.  "  It  would  have  been  great 
to  row  you  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  Oh,  I  love  that  river, 
Miss  Jickers ! " 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  she  said  gently.  "  It  is  a  river  to 
love.  Was  your  home  there  ?  Tell  me  about  it." 


XXI 
DEAMA  DONE  INTO  EEAL  LIFE 

AS  the  winter  drew  on  it  became  more  and  more 
evident  that  Sleighton,  the  earnest  theologian, 
untrained  in  social  conventions,  was  develop- 
ing rapidly  into  a  new  Sleighton  of  multiplying  social 
accomplishment.     His  diffidence  had  been  due  largely 
to  lack  of  social  advantages  in  this  early  life,  and  his 
touch  with  Prestonbury  society,  especially  through  the 
medium  of  the  Shakespeare  Club,  was  giving  him  the 
opportunity  he  had  never  had. 

In  one  direction,  however,  he  was  unable  to  over- 
come his  diffidence.  He  had  not  yet  called  upon  Miss 
Jickers.  Longing  to  see  more  of  her,  he  had  not  come 
to  the  point  of  accepting  her  invitation,  when  chance 
brought  it  about  that  he  was  cast  for  Malvolio  in 
"  Twelfth  Night"  and  Lucy  for  Olivia,  and  the  young 
lady  proposed  that  he  should  come  to  her  home  some 
evening  to  rehearse  the  dialogue  parts  between  them. 
Nothing  could  have  pleased  Sleighton  better,  and  he 
named  a  night  for  the  rehearsal  with  alacrity. 

"  What's  up,  A.  S.?  "  inquired  Horton  when  a  few 
evenings  later  his  friend  appeared  at  supper  with  an 
extra  curl  to  his  black  hair  and  a  flaming  red  tie  made 
in  a  bow  with  spreading  ends.  "  What's  the  danger  ?  " 

"  Danger  ?  Who  said  anything  about  danger  ?  What 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  I  saw  you  had  your  red  flag  out." 

"  That's  no  danger  signal,"  he  replied.  "  That's  the 
flag  of  conquest.  I'm  going  to  see  a  girl." 

202 


DRAMA  DONE  INTO  REAL  LIFE        203 

"  Who's  the  fortunate  one,  A.  S.?  "  asked  Horton  as 
the  table  laughed.  "  Whither  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  !    Shut  up,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Haven't  you  been  there  yet  ?  You're  wasting  your 
chances,  A.  S." 

But  the  tormenting  banter  of  his  friends  could  not 
destroy  Sleighton's  pleasure  in  that  evening.  They 
read  together,  and  Lucy  asked  all  sorts  of  questions 
about  the  dialogue,  and  about  how  she  should  read  this 
and  that  and  the  other  of  her  lines,  and  then  he  had  to 
read  them  for  her,  and  they  both  laughed  a  great  deal, 
and  the  evening  was  gone  before  he  knew  it. 

"  Now  you've  found  your  way  here,"  said  Lucy,  as 
he  was  taking  his  departure,  "  you  must  be  sure  to  come 
again.  Don't  wait  till  we're  cast  for  leading  parts  to- 
gether, for  that  may  not  happen  soon." 

Austin  Sleighton  went  home  as  one  who  treads  on 
air.  The  ice  was  broken.  Thereafter  he  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  calling  upon  Miss  Jickers.  He  began  by  ap- 
pearing at  the  Jickers  mansion  at  intervals  of  two  weeks, 
sometimes  seeing  Lucy  alone,  sometimes  joined  by  her 
father  and  mother,  and  perhaps  rather  monopolized  by 
the  old  doctor,  who  "  loved  to  talk  to  students,"  as  his 
daughter  put  it.  By  the  time  December  was  well  un- 
der way  his  calls  had  become  weekly  occurrences,  and 
his  near  friends  were  well  aware  of  the  attraction. 

"  Unless  I  am  woefully  deceived,"  said  Mrs.  Elmore  to 
Bradford,  "  he  is  very  much  in  love  with  her."  Brad- 
ford scouted  the  idea,  but  events  served  to  convince  him 
of  its  correctness,  though  he  was  too  busy  at  Mrs.  El- 
more's  piano  practicing  for  his  holiday  oratorio  engage- 
ments to  devote  much  of  his  spare  time  to  Sleighton's 
affairs. 

Stopping  in  at  the  drug  store  the  day  before  his  start 


204:  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

East  for  the  first  of  his  engagements,  Bradford  found 
Joe  full  of  the  subject.  "  Your  honour,"  he  began,  "  I 
don't  know  whether  I'm  for  prosecution  or  defense,  but 
I  must  say  the  do-re-mi  man  is  progressing.  If  he 
should  be  charged  with  intentions  on  the  liberties  of 
a  certain  individual,  you  know,  and  with  detaining  said 
individual  in  the  parlour  of  Dr.  John  Jickers  for  hours, 
you  know,  he  couldn't  prove  an  alibi." 

"  I  don't  much  believe  he'd  try,  J.  J.  I  think  he'd 
plead  guilty." 

"  What  ?  And  not  have  a  trial  ?  I  tell  you  there 
ought  to  be  a  trial.  It's  a  case ;  it's  a  sure  case,  and  I 
want  to  be  counsel  for  the  prosecution.  No,  sir ! 
Don't  let  him  plead  guilty." 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  you  favour  a  suit  ?  "  laughed  Brad- 
ford. "  His  suit,  for  example  ?  " 

"  No,  your  honour.  Do-re-mi's  progressing  all  right. 
He'll  get  there  without  your  help  or  mine.  It's  a  case, 
your  honour — it  surely  is  a  case." 

When  the  Shakespeare  Club  resumed  its  meetings 
after  the  holidays  the  play  committee  announced  "  In- 
gomar  "  for  the  last  week  in  January,  with  Lucy  Jick- 
ers as  Parthenia  and  Sleighton  as  Ingomar.  There 
was  a  little  murmur  of  surprised  merriment  at  the 
notice,  for  not  even  those  who  were  most  intimate  with 
Lucy  dreamed  that  she  returned  the  evident  and  trans- 
parent interest  of  her  admirer.  But  the  surprise  which 
the  reading  of  the  play  brought  the  girl  nearly  betrayed 
her  before  them  all. 

The  last  of  January  came,  and  the  evening  reading 
began  tamely  enough.  As  the  members  of  the  cast 
warmed  to  their  work,  however,  it  was  plain  that  In- 
gomar Sleighton  was  giving  the  most  realistic  rendering 
of  his  lines  that  had  ever  been  heard  by  a  Prestonbury 


DRAMA  DONE  INTO  REAL  LIFE        205 

audience.  "  Would  you  think,"  some  one  whispered  to 
Mrs.  Elmore,  "  that  so  staid  and  matter-of-fact  a  man 
could  read  that  just  as  if  he  were  really  dead  in  love 
with  Parthenia  ?  " 

"Perhaps  he  is — with  Parthenia  Jickers,"  was  the 
laughing  response. 

By  and  by  came  the  lines  about  "  two  souls  "  and 
"  two  hearts,"  and  Sleighton's  love-lorn  rendition  of 
them  at  the  climatic  moment  frightened  Lucy  a  little, 
so  fervent  was  it.  At  that  precise  moment,  however, 
came  an  interruption  in  the  person  of  Ansley  Jickers, 
and  under  cover  of  the  little  stir  of  welcome  to  him 
Sleighton  whispered  swiftly,  "  Lucy,  Lucy  dear,  let's 
have  it  that  way  always ;  you  and  I,  you  know,  always. 
Shall  we  ?  Always,  you  and  I  ?  " 

The  crimson  flooded  her  face,  but  a  beautiful  light 
shone  in  her  eyes  as  she  whispered  back,  "  Yes,  Austin ; 
you  and  I,  always." 

The  whispered  exchange  took  but  a  moment,  and  the 
reading  was  resumed.  But  Ansley  Jickers  had  seen 
the  little  colloquy  and  had  read  his  sister's  face.  At 
the  end  of  the  play,  when  the  company  dispersed,  he 
explained  to  Sleighton  that  he  would  be  unable  to  ac- 
company Lucy  home,  and  asked  him  to  take  his  place. 
"  Lu,  dear,"  he  said,  turning  to  her  as  she  came  up, 
"  I've  asked  Mr.  Sleighton  to  escort  you  home.  I  have 
an  engagement." 

The  engagement  seemed  to  take  him  in  the  same  di- 
rection as  Mrs.  Elmore,  for  they  left  the  house  together. 
Ansley  had  learned  to  know  his  old  playfellow  better 
than  ever  in  this  past  winter.  His  frequent  visits  to 
Bradford  at  her  home  had  not  ceased  even  when 
Bradford  was  absent  or  out  of  town. 

Hand  in  hand  the  student  and  the  maid  went  out 


206  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

into  the  night.  Orion,  the  old  sword-girded  god,  march- 
ing around  the  world,  saw  two  happy  souls  drink  their 
first  draught  from  the  chalice  whose  edges  are  ruby 
lips,  and  whose  contents  are  affection  pure  and  sweet  as 
incarnate  innocence.  But  Orion  went  his  way  to  the 
west  and  told  no  one. 

Dr.  Jickers  was  in  his  library  reading.  He  heard 
steps,  and  raising  his  eyes  saw  Lucy  and  Austin  Sleigh- 
ton  standing  before  him,  still  hand  in  hand. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  What's  all  this  ?  What's  all  this, 
Lucy  ?  " 

Sleighton  replied  :  "  Let  me  answer,  Dr.  Jickers.  I 
love  your  daughter,  and  I  want  her  for  my  bride." 

"You  do  ?    Is  your  heart  in  that  request,  too,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father." 

The  old  man  rose,  drew  the  girl  to  him  and  kissed 
her ;  then,  with  warm  hand-grasp  to  Sleighton,  "  God 
bless  you,  my  son !  "  he  said.  "  I'll  go  tell  mother." 

It  was  midnight  when  Austin  Sleighton,  closing  the 
front  door  behind  him,  met  Ansley  Jickers  coming  up 
the  walk.  "  The  escort  business  seems  to  have  been 
protracted,  Mr.  Sleighton,"  he  said.  "  I  am  an  inter- 
preter as  well  as  an  attorney.  Have  you  seen  my  fa- 
ther?" 

"  Yes.     I  should  not  have  stayed  so  long  otherwise." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  understand,  I  understand.  Congratula- 
tions, Austin ;  hearty  congratulations." 

"  Pardon  me,  Ansley,"  said  the  other  as  they  shook 
hands.  "  But  Mrs.  Elmore  has  no  father,  has  she  ?  " 

Ansley  smiled.  "  I  see  you  are  an  interpreter,  too," 
he  replied. 


XXII 
VARYING  "SUMS  OF  DIRECTION  » 

O  Lucy  Jickers  is  going  to  marry  that  organist  ? 
Well,  well !  We  knew,  of  course,  she  would 
marry  a  student,  but  why  doesn't  she  take  the 
singer  ?  He's  up  there  every  week,  and  sometimes 
oftener,  and  Joe  and  the  squire  think  there's  no  one 
quite  so  good  as  he  is.  Why  didn't  they  make  a  match 
between  him  and  Lucy  ?  " 

So  Prestonbury  talked,  as  wisely  as  people  commonly 
do  who  talk  about  things  of  which  they  know  nothing. 
Even  the  Shakespeare  Club  was  surprised ;  not  at 
Sleighton,  for  his  infatuation  had  been  one  of  the  club 
jokes,  but  at  Lucy.  Only  a  few  of  the  people  who  dis- 
cussed the  topic  saw  the  real  worth  of  the  awkward 
student.  Those  few  insisted  that  he  was  destined  for 
success ;  as  Jack  Tappan  put  it,  "  Any  fellow  that  can 
read  life  into  the  lines  of  a  drama  as  he  can  will  make 
his  audience  wake  up  if  he  has  the  poorest  kind  of  ser- 
mon." 

Bradford's  congratulations  were  generous  and  glad. 
"  That  necktie  won  out,  A.  S.,"  he  declared.  "  I  was 
afraid  it  would  be  your  ruin  ;  it  was  almost  as  ridiculous 
as  the  horseback  riding.  But  you've  made  it,  and 
you're  lucky,  and  so's  she,  as  lucky  as  you  are.  You're 
the  best  fellow  up  here,  old  boy." 

"  Always  barring  you,  Brad." 

"  Barring  nothing  and  no  one.  Here's  to  you,  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Austin  Sleighton  of  the  by  and  by." 

207 


208  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  Thanks,  Brad.  But  don't  forget  it's  all  due  to  the 
*  Antigone.'  By  gracious,  I  wish  you  were  as  sure  of 
the  real '  Anti '  as  I  am  of  Lucy." 

Bradford  winced,  and  relapsed  into  silence.  It  was 
only  that  morning  that  a  letter  had  come  to  Mrs.  El- 
more  from  the  travellers  telling  of  their  sojourn  in 
Egypt.  Though  the  young  man  asked  no  questions,  it 
was  natural  that  his  hostess  should  share  her  news  with 
him,  but  never  till  this  particular  day  had  she  seen  in 
him  any  sign  of  a  more  than  passing  interest  in  the  facts 
she  told  him. 

As  she  mentioned  that  a  Scotchman  named  Stuart 
was  with  the  Elmores  and  was  very  attentive  to 
Eleanor,  he  had  asked,  as  if  involuntarily,  "  Is  Miss  El- 
more  likely  to  marry  him  ?  "  She  had  seen  him  bite 
his  lips  in  annoyance  at  his  own  words  before  she  an- 
swered, "  I  imagine  Father  Elmore  is  very  desirous  of 
it." 

In  his  room  that  night  Bradford  Horton  took  from 
his  trunk  an  envelope  in  which  were  three  withered 
white  carnations,  and  held  them  for  a  while  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand.  In  his  face  there  was  a  far-away 
look,  the  look  of  longing  that  is  sometimes  worn  when 
no  one  was  with  him  to  detect  it.  "  Oh,  well,"  he  said 
at  last,  and  put  the  faded  keepsakes  carefully  away. 
He  would  never  see  her  again,  anyway ;  she  was  in 
Egypt,  and  when  she  should  return  he  would  be  far 
away.  For  he  did  not  know  as  yet  the  fortune  that 
was  even  then  on  its  way  towards  him.  It  was  not  un- 
til April  that  he  learned  of  it.  For  in  April  the  pro- 
fessor of  Greek  resigned,  and  the  directors  of  the 
seminary  elected  Horton  to  the  vacancy. 

The  announcement  of  Bradford's  acceptance  of  the 
position,  with  leave  of  absence  till  November  and  an 


VAKYING  "  SUMS  OF  DIRECTION  "     209 

advance  of  a  part  of  his  salary,  was  made  at  the  annual 
meeting  in  May.  Maxwell  expressed  his  regret  over  the 
matter  when  he  met  Horton  next  day ;  he  had  still 
hoped  to  secure  the  young  man  as  part  of  his  permanent 
force  at  the  bank. 

"You  and  the  directors  have  beaten  me,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  afraid  you're  turning  a  good  banker  into  a  dust 
heap.  But  I'm  glad  you're  going  to  stay  in  Preston- 
bury,  and  remember,  whenever  you  get  weary  of  dig- 
ging among  Greek  roots  we're  ready  to  put  you  to  work 
in  a  gold  mine." 

Perhaps  the  only  person  not  heartily  glad  at  Brad- 
ford's good  fortune  was  old  Professor  Dragham.  That 
worthy  man's  soul  was  filled  with  fear.  Was  not  the 
ark  in  danger  once  more,  if  a  man  who  did  not  believe 
in  "  a  call "  was  to  become  one  of  the  instructors  of 
young  men  preparing  for  the  ministry  ?  He  shook  his 
head  and  secretly  mourned,  but  would  probably  have 
kept  his  misgivings  to  himself  had  not  the  dean  given  a 
dinner  in  Bradford's  honour,  at  which  the  members  of 
the  faculty  and  their  wives  were  guests. 

Horton  and  Dragham  were  seated  opposite  each  other 
at  table,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  the  voice  of  Pro- 
fessor Dragham  rose,  high,  rasping,  incisive.  "Are 
you  still  testing  the  '  sum  of  direction,'  Mr.  Horton  ? 
Are  you  settled  as  to  whether  you  have  a  call  to  the 
ministry  ?  " 

"  I  must  answer  no  and  yes  to  those  questions,  pro- 
fessor. I  am  not  testing  the  '  sum  of  direction,'  and  I 
am  settled  as  to  my  call." 

"  Then  you  think  you  are  called  to  preach  tho 
Gospel  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  I  don't  think  that.  But  I  know  I  am  called 
to  teach  Greek." 


210  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  Do  you  consider  teaching  Greek  a  higher  calling 
than  preaching  the  Gospel  ?  " 

"  No.  With  me  it  is  not  a  question  of  higher  or 
lower,  but  of  simple  fact.  My  friend,  Mr.  Sleighton, 
would  say  without  a  moment's  hesitation  that  he  is 
called  to  preach,  and  I  would  agree  with  him.  Equally 
I  say  I  am  called  to  teach,  and  he  will  agree  with  me. 
But  neither  his  call  nor  mine  is  the  higher." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  makes  you  speak  with 
such  certainty  about  Mr.  Sleighton." 

"  '  Sum  of  direction,'  professor.  Through  his  semi- 
nary life  he  has  been  sought  by  those  who  wanted  a 
good  leader  for  meetings  of  various  kinds.  His  preach- 
ing in  Minnesota  during  his  second  summer  vacation 
was  so  acceptable  that  it  has  secured  him  a  call  to  an 
important  Presbyterian  church  in  St.  Paul,  and  he  has 
accepted  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  There  is  no  question  in  my  mind 
about  Mr.  Sleighton." 

"  But  there  is  about  me,  professor  ?  " 

"Well " 

What  Professor  Dragham's  answer  might  have  been 
must  be  surmised.  The  wife  of  the  dean  heard  the  con- 
versation, and  she  took  the  direction  of  the  matter  sum- 
marily. 

"  Pardon  me,  Professor  Dragham,"  she  said ;  "  after 
dinner  you  and  Professor  Horton  can  go  to  the  library 
and  talk  out  your  differences ;  can  talk  till  midnight  if 
you  desire.  But  just  now  there  are  others  of  us  who 
want  to  talk  with  you.  We  do  not  often  have  an  op- 
portunity, and  I  can't  allow  Professor  Horton  to  monopo- 
lize you  any  more.  Are  you  going  to  Canada  as  usual 
this  summer  ?  " 

So  the  conversation  drifted  away  from  serious  sub- 


VARYING  "SUMS  OF  DIRECTION"      211 

jects  and  the  discussion  was  never  finished.  Before 
Bradford  assumed  his  duties  as  a  member  of  the  faculty 
the  senior  professor  had  made  his  last  fight. 

In  the  starlight  on  the  evening  following  the  dinner 
Sleighton  and  Horton  had  their  last  pull  together  on 
Orsina  Lake  of  happy  memories.  Horton  was  to  leave 
for  Glencoe  on  the  early  morning  train.  Standing  be- 
fore the  gate  of  the  Jickers  house,  both  men  realized 
with  emotion  that  their  three  years  together  as  fellow 
students  were  forever  past. 

"  Come  in  with  me,  Brad." 

"  No,  I  won't  go  in,  A.  S.  It's  too  late.  I'll  say 
good-bye  here."  There  was  a  quiver  of  affection  in  the 
strong  voice.  "  We  met  by  the  St.  James  with  a  hand- 
shake ;  we'll  part  with  one  here.  Give  Lucy  my  love. 
Stay  single  till  I  come  back  in  November  and  I'll  see 
you  at  the  wedding.  Good-bye,  old  boy." 

The  welcome  of  the  Glencoe  home  was  warm  and 
loving.  Barney  O'Toole  was  still  in  the  town,  a  per- 
manent resident  now,  acting  as  teller  of  the  reorganized 
bank.  Coming  to  supper  one  night  during  Bradford's 
visit,  he  sat  with  him  on  the  porch  till  a  late  hour  talk- 
ing over  Prestonbury  experiences,  especially  the  early 
part  of  their  acquaintance. 

"  Barney,"  said  Bradford  frankly,  at  last,  "  what 
made  you  hate  me  so  when  I  first  landed  there  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.  Your  good  looks  and  good  manners, 
probably,  and  a  feeling  I  had  that  you  were  finer- 
grained  than  I — that  you  were  by  nature  the  kind  of 
thing  I  was  pretending  to  be." 

"Queer.  Do  you  remember  where  you  saw  me 
first?" 

"  Yes  ;  you  came  to  the  drug  store  and  bought  a  lamp. 
I  told  1827  after  you'd  gone  out  that  you  were  a  Nancy 


218  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

boy.  And  I  saw  you  fall  and  break  that  non-breakabl* 
bit  of  junk  that  Jickers  put  off  on  you.  Then  next  day 
you  took  the  indexing  job  for  twenty-five  dollars,  and 
Maxwell  must  have  thought  I  was  a  robber.  I  think  I 
began  then  really  to  hate  you.  So  it  went.  You  sang 
me  out  of  the  choir  job  at  the '  Old  Furnace,'  and  then  I 
had  it  in  for  you.  I'm  glad  the  luck  was  on  your  side, 
Horton," 

"  It  came  near  not  being.  If  I'd  attended  Miss  El- 
more's  party  I'd  likely  be  serving  my  term  now." 

"  Well,  I  don't  need  to  tell  you,  Horton,  I'm  glad  I 
failed.  I  never  would  have  known  the  sort  of  man  you 
are  if  I  had  succeeded.  But  honestly,  Horton,  I  don't 
understand  why  you've  treated  me  as  you  have." 

"It's  because  I  understand  you,  Barney." 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  where  Mr.  Elmore  is  now  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  in  Italy,"  said  Bradford,  in  some  surprise  at 
the  abrupt  change  of  subject. 

"  Do  you  hear  from  him  ?  " 

"  No.  Mr.  Elmore  has  no  special  use  for  me  ;  why, 
I  don't  know.  He  turned  from  a  friend  into  a  foe  al- 
most in  a  night.  There's  a  mystery  there  I  cannot  un- 
derstand." 

"  I  wish  he  could  know  in  some  way  that  I'm  mak- 
ing good." 

There  should  be  no  difficulty  about  that,  Bradford 
assured  him.  Mr.  Elmore  should  know  all  about  Bar- 
ney's altered  career  as  soon  as  he  returned  to  Preston- 
bury  in  the  late  fall.  Then  the  talk  drifted  off  to  the 
latest  Prestonbury  news — the  announcement  just  made 
public  of  the  engagement  of  Ansley  Jickers  and  Mrs. 
Elmore. 

"  The  town  is  delighted,"  said  Bradford.  "  They're 
to  be  married  as  soon  as  her  family  come  home  in  No- 


VARYING  "  SUMS  OF  DIRECTION  "     213 

vember.  Matrimony  seems  to  be  epidemic.  I  suppose 
Joe  will  be  the  next  victim." 

"  Where  do  you  come  in  ?  "  asked  Barney  cheerfully. 

"  I  ? "  Bradford  laughed  with  a  certain  grimness. 
"  I  don't  come  in  anywhere,  O'Toole." 


XXIII 
MEETINGS  FAE  AFIELD 

ON  a  morning  in  June  two  men  alighted  from 
the  little  steamer  that  daily  makes  the  round 
of  Lake  Lucerne.  Though  not  companions, 
both  had  come  with  the  same  purpose — to  ascend  on 
foot  the  Kigi-Culm.  One  of  them  loitered  at  the  land- 
ing, watching  the  steamer  as  it  puffed  itself  towards 
Fluellen,  and  then,  strolling  leisurely  through  the  vil- 
lage, chatted  with  those  he  met.  A  half  hour  passed 
before  he  began  to  go  up  the  mountain,  and  even  then 
his  step  was  not  quick,  but  long  and  steady,  as  of  one 
who  knew  what  he  had  to  do  and  how  to  do  it. 

The  other  man,  having  paused  only  long  enough  to 
inquire  for  the  road  up  the  mountain,  started  with 
quick,  springy,  nervous  gait.  He  swung  a  walking  stick 
with  vigour,  and  occasionally  struck  off  the  head  of  a 
flower  by  the  wayside.  Before  he  had  gone  far,  how- 
ever, he  had  more  than  once  stopped  beside  the  road  to 
rest,  and  during  one  of  these  pauses  was  overtaken  by 
the  man  who  had  lingered  at  the  mountain's  foot.  The 
wayside  loiterer  rose. 

"  Going  up  the  mountain  ?  "  he  asked  with  American 
lack  of  ceremony,  adding,  as  the  pedestrian  nodded, 
"  Care  for  company  ?  " 
"  That  depends." 

"  What  on  ?    Are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  " 
"  No.    We're  not  afraid  of  Americans  over  here." 
"  What  makes  you  think  I'm  an  American  ?  " 
"  Your  first  question,  for  one  thing ;  your  nervous- 

214 


MEETINGS  FAR  AFIELD  215 

ness,  for  another.  And  your  hurry  to  climb  the  moun- 
tain, for  a  third.  "Weren't  you  on  the  steamer  from 
Lucerne  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  was  in  a  hurry.  I  was  anxious  to  see  the 
view." 

"  But  the  view  will  remain,  whether  you  are  in  haste 
or  leisurely." 

"Of  course.  Views  can't  run  away.  But  I  had 
never  seen  it.  Was  there  anything  to  stop  for  ?  " 

"Yes,  as  I  look  at  it.  The  people  and  shops  are 
quaint  and  interesting,  and  in  the  village  there's  a 
spring  of  ice  cold  water  worth  the  whole  trip." 

"  Too  bad,"  said  the  other  regretfully.  "  I'm  sorry 
I  missed  that." 

"  Did  you  never,"  asked  the  stranger,  "  hear  the 
American  proverb,  '  More  haste,  less  speed '  ?  " 

The  other  laughed.  "  It  seems  to  me  I  have.  What 
other  Americanisms  do  you  find  about  me  ?  " 

"  One  at  least ;  the  nervous  way  you  struck  off  the 
flowers  with  your  stick.  I've  noticed  that  Americans 
are  usually  great  wasters  of  nervous  energy." 

"  Are  you  Englishmen  never  nervous  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  we're  nervous,  but  do  not  show  it  as  you 
do.  But  turn  about  is  fair  play.  Why  do  you  call  me 
English?" 

"  Because  of  your  unconscious  process  of  self-elimina- 
tion. In  describing  me  you  have  told  what  you  think 
Englishmen  are  not.  Besides,  no  foreigner  but  an  Eng- 
lishman can  speak  English  as  you  do." 

"  That  was  well  answered.  I  am  English,  and  yet  I 
am  not.  I  am  a  Scotchman." 

They  shook  hands,  and  chatting  in  such  fashion  went 
up  the  mountain,  pausing  now  and  again  to  look  at  the 
ever-widening  view. 


216  BEADFOED  HOETON:  MAN 

"  I've  taken  this  walk  many  times,"  said  the  Scotch- 
man, "and  each  time  I  discovered  new  wonders.  Is 
this  your  first  sight  of  Switzerland  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  it  is  both  revelation  and  inspiration." 

They  dined  together  on  the  mountain  and  after- 
wards climbed  to  the  battlement  above  to  look  down 
on  the  vast  panorama. 

"Do  you  return  to  Lucerne  to-night?"  asked  the 
Scotchman. 

"No,  I  go  northward.  Shall  sleep  to-night  near 
Lake  Zug  somewhere,  and  to-morrow  start  for  Berlin, 
where  work  is  waiting  for  me.  Are  you  returning  to 
Lucerne  ?  " 

"  No,  I  go  down  by  rail  and  to  Vienna.  But  I  would 
like  to  know  with  whom  I  have  passed  these  enjoyable 
hours." 

"  So  would  I.  My  name  is  Horton — Bradford  Hor- 
ton  of  Prestonbury,  New  York."  His  card  corroborated 
his  words,  and  on  the  one  he  received  in  exchange  he 
read,  "  Malcolm  Stuart,  Newcastle-on-Tyne." 

"  Oh  ho  ! "  he  thought ;  "  this  is  the  man  Mrs.  El. 
more  told  me  about."  As  he  slipped  the  card  into  his 
pocket  he  heard  the  Scotchman  say,  "  This  is  strange. 
I  am  familiar  with  the  name  Prestonbury.  I  heard  it 
on  the  other  side  of  the  globe.  In  Japan  I  met  some 
charming  people  from  Prestonbury.  Elmore  was  their 
name.  Do  you  happen  to  know  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  them,  and  I  have  heard  of  you.  You 
met  them  again  in  Egypt,  did  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.  I  met  them  in  Egypt,  and  was  with  them 
in  Home.  How  you  Americans  seem  to  know  every- 
thing ! " 

Horton  laughed !  "  No,  not  quite  everything.  But 
we  do  keep  our  ears  and  eyes  open  as  we  move  about." 


MEETINGS  FAR  AFIELD  217 

At  the  railway  station  they  exchanged  good-byes. 
"  Europe  is  not  large,"  called  back  Stuart  from  the 
train  as  it  began  the  descent.  "  Perhaps  we  may  meet 
again,  Mr.  Horton." 

****** 

The  train  which  had  brought  the  Elmores  from  Italy 
was  nearing  Vienna  when  Mr.  Elmore  remarked  cas- 
ually to  his  daughter,  "  I  had  a  letter  from  Stuart 
in  Milan  yesterday.  He  said  he  would  reach  Vienna 
to-day,  so  perhaps  we'll  see  him  to-night." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  A  weary  sigh  followed  the  word* 
"  I  thought  I  was  to  have  a  really  good  time  in  Vienna. 
What  nuisances  men  are  !  " 

"  Why,  I'm  a  man,  Lennie." 

"  Yes,  but  you're  a  daddy-man,  and  that's  different." 
The  faint  smile  with  which  she  brightened  the  words 
faded  as  she  went  on.  "  Mr.  Stuart  has  almost  spoiled 
my  whole  trip.  I'm  sick  of  being  always  on  guard." 

"  Why  on  guard,  Lennie  ?     Stuart  is  not  dangerous." 

"  But  he  is,  father.  He's  always  trying  to  edge  up 
towards  a  question  I  don't  want  him  to  ask." 

"  If  he  ever  does  ask  it,  what  will  you  answer,  dear  ?  " 

"  Father !  Do  you  want  me  to  marry  Malcolm 
Stuart  ?  " 

"  Not  if  your  heart  is  not  in  it,  dear." 

"  Well,  my  heart  is  not  in  it,  father,  not  the  least  bit." 

"  Is  it — is  your  heart  in  it — anywhere,  Lennie  ?  " 
His  hesitation  as  he  asked  the  question  showed  that  he 
knew  it  was  incautious.  The  girl  flushed ;  for  a  mo- 
ment her  eyes  blazed  with  anger.  Then,  with  an  effort, 
she  controlled  herself ;  the  memory  of  Shanghai  was 
still  clear. 

"  I  told  you  once,"  she  said  quietly,  "  how  I  would 
regard  your  wishes  in  that  matter." 


218  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"  All  right,  dear.  I'm  satisfied,"  he  hastened  to  as- 
sure her. 

"  But,  father ! "  she  resumed  after  a  little  silence. 
"  We're  going  to  Berlin,  and  you  know  Caroline  wrote 
Mr. — Mr.  Horton  had  gone  there  to  study.  You'll 
surely  run  across  him,  or  I  will,  or  we  will.  And  it's 
not  that  I  care  anything  about  him,  but  I  hate  to  have 
things  unpleasant,  and  to  have  you  get  angry." 

"  All  right,  dear.  I'll  trust  you.  I  have  your  word, 
and  that's  enough." 

"  Then  if  we  do  meet,  and  he  calls,  you'll  be  good  ? 
And  I  may  receive  him  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.  As  professor  in  the  seminary,  he's 
entitled  to  respect.  Of  course,"  he  added  hurriedly, 

"  that  doesn't  change  things  really,  but "  He  left 

the  sentence  unfinished. 

It  had  not  been  without  an  effort  that  Mr.  Elmore 
had  brought  himself  to  the  point  of  saying  what  he  had 
known  it  was  necessary  to  say  if  he  was  not  to  display 
an  entire  lack  of  trust  in  his  daughter  and  make  him- 
self appear  in  her  eyes  utterly  unreasonable.  When 
they  had  heard  in  Venice  of  Caroline's  engagement  and 
of  Bradford  Horton's  election  to  the  chair  of  Greek,  he 
had  been  inclined  to  be  angry,  though  only  his  wife 
knew  it. 

His  tirade  against  the  "  impostor  "  had  met  with  only 
remonstrance,  not  sympathy,  from  her,  which  had  not 
lessened  his  disturbance  at  the  fact  that  Bradford  was 
to  remain  permanently  in  Prestonbury.  The  outcome 
was  made  all  the  more  distasteful  to  him  by  the  fact 
that  the  man  he  thought  an  upstart  was  now  raised  to 
his  own  social  level.  Over  and  over  Mr.  Elmore  de- 
clared that  had  he  been  at  home  he  would  have  pre- 
vented the  election;  over  and  over  he  vowed  that 


MEETINGS  FAR  AFIELD  219 

though  he  could  not  ignore  the  new  professor  he  would 
never  receive  him  in  his  house.  Thus  only  by  days  of 
struggle  had  the  proud  old  gentleman  come  to  the 
resolve  to  treat  Bradford  Horton,  whoever  he  might  be, 
as  one  gentleman  treats  another,  at  least  until  he  should 
see  some  sign  that  Eleanor's  affections  were  involved. 
"  Because  he  fascinates  me  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
suppose  he  fascinates  her,"  he  told  himself  again  and 
again. 

The  little  colloquy  in  the  train  cleared  the  air  for 
both  father  and  daughter.  In  her  meeting  with  Stuart 
that  evening  it  was  a  case  of  "forewarned  is  fore- 
armed/' Welcoming  him  without  constraint  and  with 
apparent  pleasure,  she  yet  made  him  feel  a  nameless 
something  that  said  plainer  than  speech,  "  Comradeship 
will  be  acceptable,  but  love-making  intolerable."  Chafe 
in  spirit  though  he  might,  he  did  not  try  to  pass  that 
barrier.  "  Finesse  is  better  than  force,"  he  reflected 
wisely.  So  he  set  himself  only  to  be  gentle,  steady, 
patient,  thoughtful,  constant,  delightful,  so  delightful 
that  Eleanor  felt  a  growing  regret  that  he  was  not  a 
friend  instead  of  a  lover. 

So,  still  in  his  company,  Vienna  became  Dresden,  and 
Dresden  Geneva,  and  Geneva  Interlaken,  and  all  the 
rest ;  and  so  matters  fared  on  until  the  Berlin  papers 
that  chronicle  the  movements  of  American  tourists  an- 
nounced the  arrival  of  the  Elmore  party.  As  soon  as 
possible  after  reading  the  notice  Bradford  Horton  called 
at  the  Kaiserhof ,  to  find  there  not  only  his  Prestonbury 
friends  but,  to  his  great  surprise,  his  friend  of  the  Rigi. 
His  greeting  to  Stuart  was  an  equal  surprise  to  the 
Elmores,  who  had  been  on  the  point  of  introducing  the 
two  young  men. 

"  Europe  is  so  small  that  we  have  met  again,"  Horton 


220  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

said.  "  Your  suggestion  as  we  parted  seems  to  have 
proved  a  prophecy."  Turning  to  Mr.  Elmore,  he  ex- 
plained, "  Mr.  Stuart  and  I  climbed  the  Rigi  together 
one  day  in  June." 

Stuart  was  hardly  overjoyed  at  the  appearance  of 
this  new  acquaintance.  It  was  his  last  night  in  Berlin, 
and  Eleanor  had  promised  to  walk  with  him  in  the 
park.  During  that  walk  he  had  determined  to  make 
her  listen  to  his  declaration.  Now  he  was  baffled  once 
more,  and  must  cover  his  chagrin  as  best  he  might. 

The  evening  passed  rapidly.  Eleanor's  relief  at  her 
deliverance  from  what  she  had  been  sure  was  coming 
made  her  sparkle  with  charming  animation.  Stuart 
joined  as  heartily  as  he  could  in  the  conversation  which 
centred  around  things  of  which  he  knew  little — incidents 
of  the  Prestonbury  life  from  which  Horton  had  recently 
come. 

When  Horton  finally  rose  to  go  he  spoke  first  to 
Stuart.  "  I  have  greatly  enjoyed  meeting  you  again, 
friend  of  the  Rigi,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  this  meeting  will 
not  be  like  that,  a  meeting  that  ends  in  parting,  with  no 
certainty  of  meeting  again.  I  am  here  in  Berlin  for 
several  weeks  and  shall  hope  to  know  you  better." 

"  I  should  be  pleased  also,"  said  the  Scotchman  a  lit- 
tle stiffly.  "  But  unfortunately  this  is  only  another  Rigi 
episode.  I  leave  for  England  early  in  the  morning." 

So  Bradford  departed  without  a  thought  that  his  com- 
ing had  wrecked  a  carefully  formed  plan,  thinking  only 
that  Stuart  was  a  luckier  fellow  than  himself.  And 
the  luckier  fellow  bowed  at  last  without  a  word  to  the 
inevitable,  and  with  his  good-byes  to  the  Elmores  said 
good-bye  to  his  hopes. 


XXIV 
BITTER  WORDS  AND  SWEET 

NOT  the  movement  of  a  muscle,  not  the  inflec- 
tion of  a  word,  had  shown  during  that  even- 
ing the  working  of  Mr.  Elmore's  mind.  He 
had  held  himself  in  leash  as  the  hunter  holds  his  strain- 
ing hounds.  He  had  seen  a  surge  of  colour  sweep  over 
Eleanor's  face  as  Horton  entered  the  drawing-room  of 
the  Kaiserhof ;  he  had  seen  how  utterly  devoid  of  emo- 
tion was  her  parting  with  Malcolm  Stuart.  In  spite  of 
himself,  no  matter  how  he  held  his  feelings  checked, 
young  Drum's  bearing,  more  graceful  and  distinguished 
than  ever,  fascinated  and  angered  him  as  it  did  at  every 
contact  between  them. 

Reason  tried  to  persuade  him  that  there  was  nothing 
to  fear.  "  Eleanor  does  not  care  for  him,"  he  argued 
with  himself.  "She  said  she  would  not  marry  him 
even  if  he  should  ask  her.  And,  anyway,  what  sign 
does  he  show  that  he  means  to  ask  her  ?  "  But  rational 
argument  seemed  to  have  no  calming  effect  upon  the 
unrest  that  this  man's  presence  excited  in  him. 

There  was  a  still  more  immediate  reason  why  the 
events  of  the  evening  had  put  Mr.  Elmore  out  of 
temper.  In  spite  of  his  last  talk  with  Eleanor  on  the 
subject,  before  their  stay  in  Vienna,  he  had  hoped  that 
she  and  Stuart  might  reach  an  understanding,  and  so 
cordial  had  they  seemed  of  late  that  he  had  almost  be- 
come persuaded  that  matters  were  as  he  wished.  He 
was  annoyed,  therefore,  when  Horton's  appearance 

221 


222  BKADFOKD  HORTON  :  MAN 

kept  Stuart  from  his  rights  on  that  last  evening,  and 
disappointed  when  he  saw  from  his  daughter's  cool 
manner  to  the  young  Scotchman  that  there  was  noth- 
ing between  them  after  all.  Too  excited  to  let  the 
night  pass  without  a  discussion  of  the  matter  with  his 
wife,  he  broached  a  sudden  question,  pacing  the  floor 
of  their  apartment. 

"  Emily,  are  Lennie  and  Malcolm  Stuart  engaged  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  dear.     She  would  have  told  us." 

"  Well,  why  aren't  they  engaged  ?  They  ought  to 
be.  No  man  was  ever  more  attentive  to  a  girl." 

"  Probably,"  said  the  lady  demurely,  "  for  the  same 
reason  that  kept  us  so  long  from  being  engaged.  You 
never  asked  me." 

"  Does  she  love  him  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  bit,  Richard." 

"  Well,  why  doesn't  she  love  him  ?  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  love  any  one  of  half  a  dozen  girls 
in  Prestonbury,  rather  than  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  because  I  couldn't." 

"  That's  Eleanor's  reason.  You  would  have  seen  it 
all  along,  as  I  have,  if  you  hadn't  been  blind." 

"  I  know  she  told  me  practically  that  some  time  ago, 
but  I  thought  lately  she'd  changed." 

"  She'll  never  change,  Richard." 

"  Does  she  love  this — this — this  Drum  man  ?  " 

"  There's  no  reason  to  think  so — she  hardly  knows 
him.  What  does  make  you  insist  so  on  that  ?  But," 
she  went  on  thoughtfully,  "  it  wouldn't  be  surprising  if 
a  girl  did  fall  in  love  with  him.  How  handsome  he 
was  to-night !  Why,  Richard,  he's  perfectly  fascinat- 
ing." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  that  ?  That's  what 
makes  me  insist,  as  you  call  it." 


BITTER  WORDS  AND  SWEET  223 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  his  wife,  "  sometimes  when  I 
see  how  charming  he  is,  and  what  a  perfect  gentleman, 
I  think  there's  a  fearful  mistake  somewhere." 

"  Don't  you  get  crazy,  too,  Emily,"  said  Mr.  Elmore 
shortly.  "Anyway,"  with  an  effort  to  reassure  him- 
self, "  I  have  her  promise  not  to  marry  him  till  I  say 
she  may,  and  I'll  never  say  that.  Never  !  " 

"  Suppose  you  should  find  there  was  a  mistake,  Rich- 
ard ?  " 

"But  I  won't!  Don't  I  know?  Didn't  Rosalie 
Horton's  letter  just  tally  with  the  story  of  that  old 
vagabond  ?  " 

"My  dear,  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  perhaps 
you're  putting  into  Lennie's  head  an  idea  she  never 
would  have  thought  of  herself  ?  It's  fairly  sure  to 
make  a  girl  fall  in  love  to  tell  her  not  to." 

"  Nonsense  !  Lennie's  no  fool,  and  she  has  a  mind  of 
her  own.  Anyway,  I'll  keep  her  from  seeing  him  any 
more.  We'll  leave  Berlin  to-morrow." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Elmore  in  consternation, 
"  we've  only  just  reached  here.  It  will  look  very " 

"  I  don't  care.  St.  Petersburg  is  more  worth  seeing 
than  Berlin,  and  I've  got  my  letters  to  the  commandant 
there." 

"  But,  Richard " 

"  Don't  talk,"  he  silenced  her  roughly.  "  We  leave 
here  to-morrow.  I  say  so." 

Accordingly,  a  change  of  plans  was  announced  to 
Eleanor  next  morning,  and  two  nights  following,  when 
Horton  called  again,  he  learned  that  the  Elmores  had 
left  unexpectedly  for  St.  Petersburg. 

Eleanor  accepted  the  situation  pleasantly  enough, 
though  there  were  many  things  for  which  she  would 
have  liked  to  linger  in  Berlin.  She  knew  well  enough 


224  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

the  reason  of  their  sudden  departure ;  she  understood 
why  her  father  had  fled  from  Berlin,  where  he  as  much 
as  she  desired  to  stay,  to  St.  Petersburg,  which  had 
been  outside  their  itinerary  and  about  which  neither  of 
them  cared  especially.  She  could  not  quite  refrain 
from  all  mention  of  a  fact  so  obvious. 

"  You  ran  away  from  Berlin,  daddy,"  she  said  one 
day  after  they  were  settled  in  the  Russian  capital,  "  be- 
cause you  were  afraid  of  Mr.  Horton.  Do  you  doubt 
me  after  all  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Elmore  uneasily.  There  was 
something  about  his  daughter's  steady  gaze  and  even 
self-control  that  he  had  begun  to  find  disconcerting  of 
late.  "  But  I  want  to  save  you  from  annoyance." 

"  Don't  trouble,  father.  Mr.  Horton  will  never  an- 
noy me,"  she  said  gravely.  "  And  please  don't  annoy 
me  yourself  by  showing  that  he  annoys  you." 

"  But  he  does,  Eleanor,  in  spite  of  all.  I  saw  how 
glad  he  was  to  see  you,  and  I  know  what  the  looks  and 
acts  of  young  men  mean.  Besides,  his  most  inoppor- 
tune call  sent  Mr.  Stuart  away  in  a  manner  highly  un- 
satisfactory to  me." 

"  But  highly  satisfactory  to  me,  father,  and  I  think  I 
am  the  one  to  be  most  considered  in  that  connection. 
I  was  saved  from  a  most  unpleasant  scene.  I  do  not 
care  at  all  for  Mr.  Stuart,  except  as  a  pleasant  addition 
to  our  holiday,  and  I  am  thankful  enough  that  at  last 
he  is  only  a  memory." 

"Oh,  well,"  sighed  her  father,  "girls  are  queer." 
It  was  his  last  allusion  to  the  suit  of  Malcolm  Stuart. 

If  Mr.  Elmore  thought  that  by  his  swift  move  he  had 
escaped  the  dangers  he  feared  from  the  proximity  of 
Bradford  Horton  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment. 
The  first  person  he  encountered  on  the  steamer  when 


BITTER  WORDS  AND  SWEET  225 

his  party  embarked  at  Liverpool  for  home  was  the  man 
he  so  feared.  His  old  feeling  of  dislike  for  an  impostor, 
of  resentment  at  being  first  hoodwinked  and  later  mor- 
tified, mastered  him  in  a  moment,  and  Eleanor,  seeing 
it,  feared  troublous  times  in  the  journey  across  the  At- 
lantic. , 

The  first  days  of  the  passage  were  rough,  however, 
and  it  was  not  until  Sunday,  the  fourth  day  out,  that 
Bradford  came  into  contact  with  Mr.  Elmore,  when  he 
found  him  on  deck  in  a  sheltered  spot,  lying  in  a 
steamer  chair  and  looking  very  ill.  He  stopped  with 
a  courteous  inquiry  after  the  older  man's  health  and 
then,  mindful  of  his  promise  to  Barney,  added,  "  I  have 
news  that  may  interest  you  about  a  former  employee 
of  the  bank.  I  forgot  to  speak  of  it  that  night  in  Ber- 
lin when  we  had  so  much  to  talk  of." 

"  About  Hobbs  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Elmore  stiffly. 

"  No.  About  Barney  O'Toole,  or  Oren-Toole,  as  he 
once  called  himself." 

"  Once  ?    Was  not  that  his  name  ?  " 

"No,  sir.  His  name  is  Barney  O'Toole.  He  has 
abandoned  the  other  name." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  this  ?  " 

"  I  worked  with  him  for  some  weeks  a  year  ago." 

"Where?"  The  information  surprised  Mr.  Elmore 
greatly. 

"  In  Glencoe,  my  old  home.  The  bank  my  father, 
my  adopted  father,  founded  was  wrecked  by  a  default- 
ing cashier.  It  ruined  our  family.  I  was  called  home 
to  help  untangle  the  snarl." 

"  Did  Oren-Toole  work  with  you  in  that  enterprise  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  bank  examiner  needed  aid  and  I  recom- 
mended O'Toole." 

"  I  thought  you  and  he  were  enemies." 


226  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  I  was  never  his  enemy.  "Why  he  was  mine  I  did 
not  know  until  recently.  But  the  past  is  past.  We  are 
the  best  of  friends  now." 

"  You  said  a  moment  or  two  ago  your  adopted  father 
founded  that  bank.  Was  that  Henry  Horton  ?  " 

The  tone  of  the  question  was  hostile,  but  Bradford 
answered  it  calmly  in  the  affirmative. 

"You  once  gave  me  to  understand,"  Mr.  Elmore 
went  on  sternly,  "  that  he  was  your  father.  Why  do 
you  now  call  him  your  adopted  father  ?  " 

"  Because  he  was.  Until  I  was  thirteen  years  old  I 
did  not  know  he  was  not  my  own  father,  and  I  never 
have  called  any  one  else  so.  When  I  told  you  my  story 
three  years  ago  I  was  doing  what  I  had  been  taught 
to  do." 

"  Mr.  Horton,  do  you  know  who  was  your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

There  was  a  dangerous  quiet  in  the  tone,  but  unheed- 
ing, the  other  continued  to  press  his  inquisition. 

"  Was  it  the  old  man  you  so  charitably  buried  ?  " 

With  a  mighty  effort  at  control  Bradford  assented, 
only  to  have  his  anger  set  in  a  blaze  by  the  next 
inquiry. 

"  What  was  his  name,  Mr. — Mr. — ah " 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Elmore,"  said  Bradford,  his  face 
very  white.  "  Not  even  to  you  can  I  answer  that. 
My  father  had  his  reasons  for  not  wishing  his  name  to 
be  known  in  Prestonbury.  The  time  may  come  when 
I  will  reveal  his  secret,  but  that  time  has  not  arrived." 

"  So  you  decline  to  answer  me  ? "  Mr.  Elmore 
laughed  scornfully.  "  I  can  hardly  wonder.  Not  even 
education  can  wholly  lift  a  man  above  his  origin.  I 
am  sorry  this  talk  should  have  so  aroused  your  anger, 
but  there  was  really  no  reason  why  you  should  have 


BITTER  WORDS  AND  SWEET  227 

spoken  to  me.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  con- 
tinue to  speak." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  young  man  replied  with 
dignity.  "  There  was  a  reason.  I  stopped  to  tell  you, 
as  Barney  O'Toole  asked  me  to  do,  that  he  has  become 
cashier  of  the  reorganized  bank  and  is  very  highly 
respected  in  Glencoe.  That  is  all,  Mr.  Elmore.  I  will 
trouble  you  no  more.  I  hope  you  will  soon  be  on  your 
feet  again.  Good-day." 

And  calm  outwardly,  but  a  seething  furnace  within, 
he  turned  to  walk  along  the  deck. 

"Will  this  man  never  be  fair  to  me?"  he  raged. 
"  I  might  have  known  that  apology  sprang  from  no 
change  of  attitude  to  me  but  only  from  his  own  selfish 
desires  for  the  good  of  the  bank.  But  why  should  he 
hate  me?  There's  some  hidden  cause.  I  could  have 
told  him  my  father's  name,  but  what  good  would  that 
have  done?  I  would  only  have  been  untrue  to  my 
father  and  gained  nothing  by  it." 

For  the  remainder  of  the  voyage  he  made  no  further 
effort  to  speak  with  any  of  the  Elmore  party,  but  the 
afternoon  before  they  landed  he  met  Eleanor  alone  on 
deck,  and  she  accosted  him  with  animation  and  pleasure 
in  face  and  voice. 

"  To-night  will  be  our  last  upon  the  ocean,"  she 
began.  "  The  captain  is  arranging  for  a  volunteer 
concert.  Will  you  sing  ?  " 

"  Why,  surely,  if  it  will  give  you  pleasure." 

"  How  absurd  you  are  !  As  if  there  were  any  ques- 
tion about  that.  I'll  tell  the  captain.  What  will  you 
sing?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  a  new  song  I  picked  up  hi  London — new 
music  to  'Break,  break,  break.'  I  call  it  fine.  Will 
you  play  the  accompaniment  for  me  ?  " 


228  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  If  I  can  see  it  first." 

"  I'll  go  get  the  song,"  he  said.  When  he  returned 
with  the  music  she  was  sitting  at  the  piano. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I've  only  heard  you  sing 
three  or  four  times." 

"  Well,  we  will  make  it  a  fifth,  if  you'll  run  that  ac- 
companiment over." 

"  I  don't  need  to  run  it  over.     I  can  follow  you." 

He  began  to  sing,  but  half-way  through  the  second 
verse  she  stopped.  "  I  am  like  Mr.  Sleighton  that 
Sunday  at  Second  Church,"  she  said  in  reply  to  his 
look  of  inquiry.  "  How  queerly  things  come  about," 
she  added.  "  I  can't  realize  that  Lucy  is  to  marry 
him.  I  used  to  think  he  was  one  of  life's  impos- 
sibles." 

Horton  laughed.  "  Sleighton's  a  fine  man,"  he 
answered,  "a  very  fine  man.  He'll  be  heard  from 
some  day.  However,  this  is  not  rehearsing.  I  must 
sing  the  whole  song  for  my  own  satisfaction." 

It  was  before  the  third  verse,  however,  that  there 
came  an  interruption  of  his  own  making.  "  By  the 
way,"  he  said,  "speaking  of  the  wedding,  did  you 
know  I  was  to  be  a  performer  ?  " 

"  I  supposed  you  would  act  as  best  man.  I  am  to  be 
maid  of  honour,  so  Lucy  wrote  last  summer." 

"  For  me  that  is  a  day  to  look  forward  to."  Before 
the  look  in  his  face  she  dropped  her  eyes,  and  they 
turned  back  to  the  music.  They  were  just  finishing  the 
last  verse  when  her  father  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
saloon,  drawn  by  the  sound,  but  unaware  of  the  per- 
formers. Angry  in  an  instant,  he  crossed  directly  to 
the  piano. 

"  Pardon  me  for  the  interruption,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
wish  to  see  Miss  Elmore." 


229 

Eleanor  rose.  "  I  think  there  will  be  no  Hifficulty 
about  the  accompaniment.  Father,  Mr.  Horton  has  a 
lovely  song  for  to-night,  and  I'm  to  play  his  accom- 
paniment. Good-bye,  Mr.  Horton." 

And  Bradford  Horton  understood  both  the  father 
and  the  girl. 

The  concert  was  a  success,  as  ocean  steamer  concerts 
always  are.  There  was  generous  applause,  and  en- 
cores were  abundant,  but  the  surprise  of  the  evening 
came  when  Mr.  Horton  sang.  "  Who  is  he  ?  "  was  the 
question  many  times  repeated.  "  Is  he  a  new  tenor  go- 
ing to  the  States  for  the  opera  season  ?  "  He  could 
not  refuse  to  give  a  second  number. 

"  Miss  Elmore,  can  you  play  without  the  notes  the 
old  '  Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee  '—old  '  Bethany '  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  please  strike  the  chord  and  follow  me." 

When  he  had  finished  not  a  hand  moved  ;  a  thrilling 
silence  was  the  eloquent  applause.  The  singer  led  his 
accompanist  to  her  seat  beside  her  mother,  then  very 
quietly  left  the  saloon.  His  departure  was  a  signal 
for  an  outburst  of  applause.  He  did  not  return,  how- 
ever, till  the  captain  went  in  pursuit  of  him  and 
brought  him  back.  Again,  during  his  self -accompanied 
rendering  of  the  "  Three  Fishers,"  the  audience  sat 
spellbound,  while  the  delight  of  the  congratulations  he 
received  at  the  close  carried  him  back  in  memory  to  a 
night  when  a  single  white  carnation  had  dropped  from 
an  opera  box  to  the  floor  at  his  feet. 

Making  his  way  through  the  throng,  desirous  only  to 
escape  into  the  darkness  outside,  he  felt  a  bit  of  paper 
slipped  into  his  hand.  Looking  to  see  who  had  done 
this,  he  observed  Eleanor  Elmore  moving  away  with 
her  father.  When  in  his  cabin  he  unfolded  the  crumpled 


230  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAX 

slip,  he  found  in  it  simply  the  two   words,  "  Thank 
you." 

He  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  conventional  words, 
so  unconventional  in  their  coming  to  him.  "  I'm  yours, 
Antigone,"  he  said  at  last.  "  You'll  never  know  it, 
probably,  but  I'm  yours." 


XXV 
ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD 

ALL  Prestonbury,  it  seemed,  was  astir  with  prep- 
arations for  the  double  wedding  in  the  Jickers 
family.  "Who  ever  heard  of  a  wedding  on 
Thanksgiving  Day  ?  But  it's  just  like  those  Jickerses. 
They  can't  do  anything  like  anybody  else.  It's  cer- 
tainly Jickery  enough,  with  Ansley  for  a  groom  and 
Lucy  for  a  bride,  and  Joe  for  a  best  man,  and  the  old 
doctor  to  give  the  bride  away." 

Such  was  the  gossip  of  the  day,  very  hearty  and 
friendly  gossip,  for  the  family  had  a  warm  place  in  the 
heart  of  their  town.  Ansley  Jickers,  especially,  was 
the  people's  pride,  since  his  election  in  the  first  week  of 
November  to  the  post  of  state  senator. 

It  was  but  a  few  days  before  the  double  wedding 
when  the  house  on  Sunset  Hill  threw  open  its  doors 
and  became  again  a  centre  of  the  city's  social  life.  In 
these  early  days  of  her  return  every  young  man  in  the 
city,  it  seemed  to  her  mother,  called  upon  Eleanor, 
among  them  Bradford  Horton,  as  conventionality  re- 
quired in  view  of  their  approaching  association  in  the 
festivities.  Lucy  was  to  have  no  attendant  but  Eleanor, 
her  closest  friend,  and  Mrs.  Elmore's  maid  of  honour 
was  to  be  Alice  Lee. 

The  wedding  came  and  went  as  weddings  will,  un- 
marred  by  any  untoward  event,  and  in  the  midst  of 
glad  good  wishes  from  hosts  of  friends.  Mr.  Elmore, 
to  be  sure,  frowned  as  he  heard  the  hum  of  admiration 

231 


232  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

that  passed  about  the  church  as  his  daughter  came 
down  the  aisle,  after  the  ceremony,  on  Bradford  Horton's 
arm.  Her  beauty  and  his  elegance  of  bearing  seemed 
eminently  fitted  to  each  other.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
centring  of  all  eyes  on  them  that  made  it  possible  for 
Joe  Jickers,  as  he  and  Alice  passed  down  the  aisle  be- 
hind them,  to  say  what  he  did  to  his  companion. 

"  Your  honour,"  he  said  suddenly  in  an  undertone, 
half-way  between  altar  and  door,  "  counsel  moves  that 
the  next  malefactors  to  appear  at  yonder  bar  shall  be 
Joseph  Jickers  and  Alice  Lee.  What  says  your 
honour  ?  " 

Alice  looked  up,  startled.  "We've  just  appeared 
there,  Joe.  What's  the  use  of  appearing  again  ?  " 

"Your  honour,  counsel  would  have  these  male- 
factors appear  again  as  principals,  not  as  accessories." 

"  How  absurd  you  are,  Joe  !  " 

"  Your  honour,  counsel  is  aware  he  can  be  absurd 
upon  occasion,  but  he  is  not  absurd  now.  Counsel  has 
been  hunting  for  an  angel  for  years,  and  he  thinks 
your  honour's  it.  What  does  your  honour  think  ?  " 

Near-by  people  could  hear  Alice  laugh,  but  she  made 
no  response. 

"  Your  honour,  is  the  laugh  with  no  answer  intended 
for  a  negative  to  counsel's  motion  ?  " 

"No,  counsel,  no.  Your  motion  is  granted,  and 
you're  a  dear  old  boy." 

"  Good,"  said  the  little  man.  "  Will  your  honour 
name  the  day  ?  " 

They  were  at  the  door  now.  "  Some  time  after  the 
holidays,  counsel,"  the  girl  answered.  Then  this 
stranger  lover  looked  full  into  her  eyes  and  she  saw 
what  she  had  never  seen  before — the  soul  of  the  man 
she  had  loved  for  many  days. 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD      233 

In  the  vestibule  Joe  walked  directly  up  to  Eleanor 
Elmore.  "  Lennie,"  he  said,  "  you  needn't  look  for  any 
more  angels  for  me.  I've  found  my  own."  Then  he 
took  the  face  of  Alice  Lee  between  his'hands  and  kissed 
her. 

**#**» 

When  Horton  answered  a  knock  at  his  new  apart- 
ments one  day  early  in  December  he  found  young  Jack 
Tappan,  announcing  himself  as  a  committee  from  the 
Shakespeare  Club.  "  We  shall  feel  highly  honoured, 
Professor  Horton,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  accept  election 
to  membership  now.  We  can't  agree  to  read  the  Greek 
Testament,  you  know,  but  perhaps  you'll  be  willing  to 
forego  that  pleasure  for  an  evening,  occasionally." 

The  reasons  that  had  kept  Bradford  from  the  club 
three  years  before  no  longer  held.  His  career  was  as- 
sured, his  position  was  established.  There  was  nothing 
to  deter  him  from  satisfying  his  social  instincts  and 
gratifying  his  friends.  So  it  was  with  acceptance  of 
this  invitation  that  he  launched  his  boat  on  Preston- 
bury's  social  waters  at  the  dock  of  the  Shakespeare 
Club.  He  very  soon  proved  that  he  could  pull  a  good 
oar.  If  he  enjoyed  most  of  all  in  the  evenings  at  the 
club  his  meeting  with  Miss  Elmore  no  one  ever 
suspected  that  he  gave  her  a  second  thought.  He  was 
less  transparent  than  Sleighton.  Her  father  watched 
anxiously  at  first,  but  since  Horton  never  called  upon 
her  at  her  home  he  soon  relaxed  his  vigilance.  With 
the  most  popular  member  of  the  seminary  faculty  he 
had  no  quarrel. 

So  the  winter  passed,  and  with  pleasant  anticipation 
the  professor  of  Greek  planned  for  an  old-fashioned 
home-going  at  the  end  of  the  seminary  year.  All 
winter  he  had  kept  in  warm  and  tender  touch  with 


234  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

Glencoe,  where  Barney  O'Toole  lived  now  in  the  old 
home,  giving  great  comfort  by  his  attentions  to  Mrs. 
Horton.  It  was  to  Barney  that  he  wrote  when  May 
had  come  at  last,  "  The  term  will  close  to-morrow  and 
I  can  finish  my  work  in  a  week.  Then,  ho  for  Glencoe, 
and  the  river  and  the  hills  I  love  so  well ! " 

But  who  can  tell  what  a  day  will  bring  forth  ?  Part 
of  the  work  that  must  be  done  before  leaving  Preston- 
bury  involved  a  call  on  Mr.  Elmore,  a  call  upon  which 
much  turned.  His  card  admitted  him,  as  three  years 
before,  to  the  banker's  private  office.  Mr.  Elmore's 
manner  struck  him  as  more  reserved  and  repellent  than 
it  had  been  of  late.  The  fact  was  that  so  unusual  a 
call  had  awakened  in  Mr.  Elmore's  heart  all  the  old 
fears  that  had  lain  sleeping  through  the  winter.  For 
this  reason  his  language  was  courteous  but  cold. 

"  Have  you  had  a  good  year's  work,  professor  ?  "  he 
began,  perfunctorily. 

«  Very." 

"  Have  you  accomplished  all  you  expected  to  ?  " 

"  Not  alL  I  suppose  no  man  with  high  ideals  ever 
does." 

"  I  hope  you  find  your  life  as  a  citizen  of  Preston- 
bury  enjoyable." 

"  All  it  lacks  is  the  element  of  home.  The  other 
professors,  with  their  ability  to  entertain,  have  me  at  a 
disadvantage.  It  is  with  reference  to  this  that  I  have 
called." 

Mr.  Elmore  hardened  instantly.  He  was  now  entirely 
sure  that  the  moment  so  long  feared  had  come.  "  If 
you  wish  to  consult  me  about  buying  a  house,"  he  said 
icily,  "  I  think  I  can  serve  you  best  by  referring  you  to 
a  real  estate  dealer." 

"  The  matter  of  a  house  does  not  interest  me  partic- 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD      235 

ularly,  Mr.  Elmore.  My  interest  is  in  the  queen  who 
shall  rule  the  house.  It  is  of  her  I  would  speak." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  queens,  professor." 

"  It  is  of  Miss  Elmore  I  am  speaking.  I  would  see 
her  as  my  wife  in  that  leadership  for  which  she  is  so 
superbly  fitted.  I  am  asking  you  for  permission  to  win 
your  daughter's  hand,  Mr.  Elmore." 

"You?  You?  How  dare  you?"  Mr.  Elmore 
fairly  stammered  in  his  wrath.  "You  give  her  a 
place  as  social  leader  ?  For  that  she  needs  no  aid  from 
you.  Her  social  leadership  was  assured  long  ago. 
And  you  dare  to  ask  me  for  her  hand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Is  that  a  crime  ?  I  will  offer  her  a  clean 
hand  and  a  pure  heart." 

"  No,  sir.  You  will  offer  her  nothing.  Have  you 
dared  to  speak  with  her  ?  " 

"  If  I  had,  I  should  not  have  asked  you  if  I  might." 

"  No,  you  would  not.  She  would  have  sent  you 
where  I  send  you  now,  to  find  some  one  of  your  class  or 
standing,  or  no  standing." 

Bradford  Horton  was  very  angry,  but  his  love  for  the 
daughter  was  greater  than  his  wrath  at  the  father. 
With  admirable  self-control  he  answered  : 

"  I  can  accept  your  refusal,  but  I  will  not  brook  your 
slurs.  I  will  not  seek  Miss  Elmore's  hand,  though  I 
feel  sure  she  would  have  accepted  my  offer  had  I  made 
it  without  coming  to  you.  I  recognize  your  present 
right,  but  I  demand  an  explanation  of  your  words." 

Mr.  Elmore,  exasperated  by  Horton's  self-possession, 
answered  with  vehement  scorn : 

v  A  clean  hand,  you  say  ;  a  pure  heart  I  Why  did 
you  not  complete  the  sentence — '  and  no  name '  ?  Why 
do  you  masquerade  under  a  name  not  your  own  ? 
Drum — William  Drum — is  your  name  if  you  have  a 


236  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

name.  You  dare  to  propose  to  join  your  nameless  life 
to  that  of  my  daughter  ?  " 

He  drew  open  the  table  drawer,  took  a  letter  from  a 
bundle  of  papers  and  threw  it  down  before  Horton. 
"  Read  that,  sir,"  he  ordered. 

It  was  Rosalie  Horton's  letter.  Bradford  read  it  and 
his  face  grew  colourless.  He  read  it  again,  and  yet 
again.  "  There !  I  can  repeat  it  now,"  he  thought. 
"  This  precious  thing  is  burned  into  the  tissue  of  my 
brain."  He  flung  it  down  upon  the  table. 

"  A  lie  as  false  as  hell,"  he  said  in  a  shaking  voice. 
"  And  yet  it  is  true,  in  part."  Then  his  anger  blazed 
out.  "  And  you,"  he  cried,  "  you,  who  call  yourself  so 
fine  a  gentleman,  you  have  kept  that  letter  for  more 
than  three  years  and  never  so  much  as  asked  me  for  an 
explanation.  This,  then,  is  the  secret  of  your  change 
towards  me  before  my  second  arrest.  This  is  why  you 
still  believe  the  '  Drum '  story,  which  no  one  else  be- 
lieves, and  which  was  absolutely  false.  This  was  the 
secret  of  your  rude  repulse  of  me  on  shipboard.  This 
is  the  secret  of  the  present  insult.  Why  did  you  not  ask 
me  to  explain  ?  Why  did  you  not  give  me  even  what 
any  criminal  has,  a  chance  for  self-defense  ?  There  lies 
your  letter,"  with  an  eloquent  gesture.  "  Keep  it ! 
Cherish  it !  Read  it,  reread  it !  Think  how  noble  you 
were,  proclaiming  through  a  whole  city  that  a  friend- 
less young  man  was  an  impostor,  unworthy  of  confi- 
dence. The  day  will  come  when  it  will  sting  you  to 
remember  what  that  letter  has  made  you  do  to-night. 
Good-night,  sir."  And  before  Mr.  Elmore  could  reply 
he  was  gone. 

With  some  misgivings  that  gentleman  replaced  the 
letter  in  the  file.  "  '  False  as  hell,  yet  true,' "  he  re- 
peated. "  What  did  he  mean  ?  What  did  he  mean  ? 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD      237 

He  was  never  so  fascinating,  even  in  his  auger.    Who 
is  he?    What  is  he?" 


A  knock  at  the  door  of  Jake's  house  on  Long  Point 
at  seven  o'clock  next  morning  brought  Jake  himself  to 
answer. 

"  Veil  ?    Vhat  you  vant  ?  "  he  asked  gruffly. 

"  Breakfast.  I've  rowed  from  the  foot  of  the  lake. 
I'm  Professor  Horton  of  the  seminary." 

"  Ya.  I  haf  seen  you  in  der  pank  alreaty.  I  haf 
seen  you  in  der  poat." 

"  Yes,  I  know.     Can  I  get  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Ve  keeps  no  poarting-house,  yet." 

"  Ya,  ve  do,"  a  woman's  voice  broke  in.  "  Ve  gif 
him  der  preakfast,  Jake."  It  was  Jake's  sister  calling 
from  the  breakfast  table.  "  Pring  him  in,  Jake." 

"  You  row  up  dis  morning  alreaty  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Vere  is  der  poat  ?  " 

"  Down  on  the  point  on  the  gravel." 

Jake  disappeared,  leaving  Bradford  at  the  table  with 
Gretchen. 

"  I'm  looking  for  a  place  where  I  can  spend  the  sum- 
mer and  be  out  of  sight,"  he  began.  "I  want  to 
work  where  no  one  will  disturb  me.  If  I  go  over 
yonder  to  Kenton's  I'll  be  bothered  all  the  time  ;  there's 
too  much  noise  and  too  much  whiskey  over  there. 
Can't  I  stay  here  ?  " 

"  Ve  keeps  no  poarting-house,  yet." 

"  I  know.  I  don't  want  a  boarding-house.  I  want 
to  come  here  just  because  you  don't  keep  a  boarding- 
house.  I'll  eat  what  you  put  on  the  table  and  find  no 
fault ;  I'll  sleep  in  the  barn  if  you  haven't  an  extra 


238  BKADFOKD  HORTON :  MAN 

room  ;  I'll  pay  ten  dollars  a  week  in  advance  and  I'll 
stay  till  September.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

The  arguments  were  strong,  and  appealed  to  the 
thrifty  mind  of  Gretchen.  She  showed  signs  of  yield- 
ing. "  Ve  haf  rooms,  alreaty,"  she  said.  "  I  go  talk  mit 
Jake." 

By  the  time  Horton  had  finished  his  breakfast  the 
brother  and  sister  returned,  the  former  carrying  Hor- 
ton's  trunk  on  his  sturdy  shoulder  Matters  were 
evidently  to  be  taken  for  granted. 

"I  findt  der  trunk  in  der  poat,"  began  the  Ger- 
man. "  I  make  der  poat  in  der  parn.  Gretchen  say 
you  shtay  mit  uns  alreaty." 

"  I  am  to  have  a  room  in  the  house,  then  ?  "  Brad- 
ford smiled  faintly  at  the  success  of  his  persuasions, 
and  added,  as  Jake  nodded,  "  There's  a  box  of  books  in 
the  boat.  I'll  go  for  it." 

"  Nein,  nein,"  the  other  remonstrated.  "  I  pring 
dem,  yet.  Und  ve  vill  pull  der  poat  up  in  der  proob, 
also,"  pointing  to  the  deep,  wide  stream  that  flowed 
near  the  barn  and  offered  excellent  mooring. 

Before  midday  the  young  man  was  installed  in  a 
comfortable  room  overlooking  the  lake.  But  there 
were  no  signs  of  pleasure  in  his  face  at  the  arrange- 
ments which  suited  him  so  perfectly.  His  mouth  was 
stern  and  set,  and  at  intervals  his  eyes  flashed  dan- 
gerously, as  from  time  to  time  the  storm  which  had 
raged  all  night  in  his  heart  swept  over  him  afresh. 

In  the  first  bitterness  of  his  anger  the  knowledge  had 
come  to  him  that  Glencoe  was  an  impossibility  for  him 
that  summer,  perhaps  forever,  and  he  had  written  his 
sister  that  a  sudden  change  of  plans  would  make  it 
necessary  to  give  up  his  visit  to  her.  He  had  given  no 
reasons ;  he  had  made  no  mention  of  his  probable  where- 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD      239 

abouts.  It  was  his  foster  mother's  malice  that  had 
been  the  cause  of  Mr.  Eknore's  injustice  and  he  dared 
not  trust  himself  to  see  her.  He  was  far  too  deeply 
wounded  to  seek  an  explanation ;  that  could  never  re- 
move the  sting  of  her  unkindness,  nor  annul  its  effects. 
The  original  letter,  written  in  anger,  he  might  have 
forgiven ;  what  seemed  unforgivable  was  her  silence 
the  past  two  years,  in  view  of  all  that  he  had  done  for 
her  and  of  her  reconciliation  with  him.  "  She  might 
have  taken  it  back  ;  she  might  have  told  the  rest  of  the 
truth,"  he  said  over  and  over  during  that  night  of  misery. 

Prestonbury,  he  realized,  was  as  impossible  for  him 
just  now  as  Glencoe.  To  see  on  its  streets  the  man  who 
had  defamed  him,  the  woman  who  was  forever  beyond 
his  reach,  was  more  than  his  strength  could  endure.  Si- 
lence and  solitude,  he  knew,  would  be  his  only  remedy  ; 
and  he  turned  in  flight  to  the  wooded  shoes  of  the  lake 
that  he  loved  as  a  refuge  alike  from  friends  and  enemies. 
The  softness  of  the  early  morning  air,  the  early  twitter- 
ing of  the  birds,  the  lapping  of  little  waves  against  his 
bow  as  he  rowed  up  the  lake,  all  failed  to  soothe  him. 

"  '  Visiting  the  iniquities  of  the  fathers,' "  he  quoted 
bitterly.  "  Where  is  the  justice  in  that  ?  Because  God 
made  me  the  son  of  my  father,  must  He  make  me  carry 
my  father's  curse  as  well  ?  " 

"  Jake,"  he  said  to  his  host  at  dinner  that  first  day, 
"  promise  me  that  when  you  go  to  town  you  won't  tell 
any  one  I'm  here."  Then,  as  he  saw  a  shade  of  sus- 
picion cross  the  German's  face,  he  added,  "There's 
nothing  wrong  about  it — I  only  want  entire  rest.  Un- 
derstand ?  " 

"  Ya,"  said  Jake,  with  a  searching  look  that  appeared 
to  satisfy  him. 

June  passed  into  July,  July  into  August,  with  its 


BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

sultry  days  and  sudden  storms.  Days  of  determined, 
albeit  mechanical,  reading  and  study  had  disciplined  his 
mind  into  calmness,  though  far  beneath  the  surface  the 
bitterness  remained  unsoothed.  In  daylight  he  avoided 
the  lake ;  at  night,  after  there  was  no  longer  likelihood 
of  his  being  observed  or  recognized,  he  would  row  or 
drift,  sometimes  till  midnight.  The  afternoons  he  spent 
under  the  shade  of  the  sycamores  that  lined  the  shore 
of  the  point. 

On  such  an  afternoon,  hot,  humid  and  oppressive  in 
spite  of  a  breeze  from  the  north,  he  lay  there  watching 
the  clouds  and  dreaming  day-dreams,  through  all  of 
which  moved  ever  the  figure  of  a  lovely  girl  with  bronze 
hair  and  lustrous  eyes.  Suddenly,  half-way  across  the 
lake,  a  sailboat  came  in  sight,  and  surprise  and  curiosity 
brought  the  observer  to  an  upright  posture. 

"  That  fellow  can't  know  much  about  flaws  and 
cross-currents  from  the  ravines,"  he  thought.  "  If  he 
does,  he's  either  a  good  sailor  or  a  lunatic,  for  there's  a 
storm  over  the  bluff  yonder." 

Presently  he  could  make  out  two  figures  in  the  boat, 
a  man  and  a  woman.  The  wind  was  rising  rapidly 
now,  and  the  whitecaps  began  to  chase  each  other  over 
the  lake.  As  he  watched  he  once  more  made  comment. 
"  That  man  doesn't  know  how  to  sail  a  boat  anywhere 
in  a  smooth  sea,  much  less  in  this  rough  one." 

The  storm  was  coming  on  very  swiftly.  Clouds 
black,  white-edged  and  thunderous  rose  fast.  Fiercely 
and  more  fiercely  blew  the  wind.  "  I'll  get  my  boat," 
he  said,  and  starting,  stopped  at  the  house  to  ask 
Gretchen  to  send  Jake  down  to  the  point.  As  he  pulled 
out  of  the  brook  he  saw  Jake  hurrying  down  ;  rowing 
towards  him,  he  yelled,  "  Be  ready  if  I  want  you !  " 

"  Ya,"  came  the  answer,  but  faintly,  so  loud  was  the 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD 

gale.  The  man  with  the  sail  was  trying  to  get  his 
craft  before  the  wind,  but  it  blew  now  from  one  quar- 
ter, now  from  another,  and  the  cross-currents  rocked 
and  twisted  the  boat  terribly.  To  furl  the  sail  was  im- 
possible. Jake  shouted  directions,  but  it  was  useless ; 
his  voice  was  lost  in  the  gale.  Suddenly  the  bow  lifted 
high,  the  boat  twisted  round,  shivered  and  capsized. 
With  a  few  strokes  Horton  was  close  to  Jake.  "  Wade 
out  and  climb  in,  Jake.  I  can't  get  nearer  shore." 

The  distance  to  the  sailboat  was  not  great,  but  it 
seemed  to  Bradford  as  if  all  eternity  was  passing,  for 
he  had  recognized  the  occupants  of  the  boat.  Rather 
would  he  die  than  fail  in  the  rescue.  The  craft  was 
sheer  over,  and  Charlie  Elmore  had  succeeded  in  climb- 
ing up  on  its  bottom,  where  he  lay  flat  and  was  holding 
Eleanor  by  one  arm.  He  was  not  strong  enough  to 
lift  the  unconscious  woman  out  of  the  water  to  his 
place  of  comparative  safety.  The  poor  boy  thought 
the  end  of  all  things  earthly  had  come  for  his  Aunt 
Eleanor. 

"  Hold  hard,  Charlie,  hold  hard !  "  called  Horton  as 
he  neared  him.  "  Jake,  I'll  pull  alongside  the  lady  and 
you  reach  her  and  draw  her  in  while  I  hold  the  skiff 
steady.  Be  quick !  Now  !  Now,  Jake,  now  ! " 

The  German  was  strong,  but  it  took  all  his  power  to 
drag  the  dead  weight  from  the  tempestuous  water,  and 
there  was  imminent  danger  of  a  second  capsizing.  To 
take  Charlie  off  was  easier,  though  when  once  he  saw 
his  aunt  and  himself  safe  in  the  rescuing  boat  the  lad 
collapsed  weakly.  He  was  able,  however,  to  help  Hor- 
ton run  the  Antigone  inshore  in  the  shelter  of  the  quiet 
brook,  while  big  Jake,  taking  Eleanor  in  his  arms  like 
a  baby,  carried  her,  still  unconscious,  in  to  Gretchen. 
At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  girl  was  in  bed,  and 


242  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

Gretchen,  with  such  means  as  were  at  her  command, 
was  striving  to  restore  her  to  consciousness,  while 
Charlie,  dressed  in  an  outfit  of  Horton's,  was  quite  him- 
self again. 

"  Charlie,"  said  Horton,  "  when  Miss  Elmore  is  con- 
scious and  you  can  see  her,  tell  her  that  some  one  has 
gone  to  Prestonbury  to  tell  her  father  she  is  safe,  and 
a  carriage  will  be  here  for  her  by  midnight." 

"Who'll  you  send,  Mr.  Horton?"  asked  the  boy, 
with  a  glance  at  the  lake,  still  rolling  heavily. 

"  I'm  going  myself,"  he  said,  simply,  unhesitatingly. 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  Horton  started  for  his  hard 
journey.  The  pull  down  the  lake  was  with  the  wind, 
so  that  it  was  only  seven  when  he  reached  Wilton's 
boat-house  at  the  foot  of  the  lake  and  hired  a  man  to 
go  with  a  message  to  Ansley  Jickers.  "  Tell  him,"  he 
ordered,  "  that  a  man  sent  you  to  report  that  Charles 
Elmore  and  a  lady  were  caught  in  a  storm  on  the  lake 
this  afternoon,  nearly  drowned  and  rescued  by  Jake. 
They  are  at  his  house  now." 

The  lake  was  quieter  on  Bradford's  return  trip,  but 
the  pull  against  the  wind  was  hard,  and  it  was  11 :  30 
when  he  moored  his  sturdy  craft  in  Jake's  inlet.  His 
first  inquiry  was  for  Eleanor. 

"  How's  the  young  lady,  Jake  ?  "  he  asked  of  the 
German,  whom  he  found  in  the  barn. 

"Badt — fery  badt,"  was  the  reply,  with  a  grave 
shake  of  the  head. 

"  How  bad  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Bradford, 
with  a  shiver  of  fear  that  shook  him  more  than  the 
hard  physical  trial  of  strength  he  had  just  passed 
through. 

"  I  mean  badt,  fery  badt,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 
"  You  petter  see  Gretchen,  yet." 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD      243 

Gretchen,  called  away  from  her  patient,  told  but  a 
brief  story.  "  The  fraulein  wake.  Den  she  ask  vere 
she  be  alreaty.  Ve  tell  her.  She  begin  to  vorry  for 
her  family's  not  knowing  vere  she  be.  Ve  tell  her  you 
haf  gone  to  make  it  right.  Den  she  cry  ;  she  say,  '  Oh, 
Sharlie,  Sharlie,  I  haf  killt  him — he  will  trown,  al- 
reaty!  Oh,  Sharlie,  Sharlie ! '  Till  now,"  said 
Gretchen,  "  do  as  ve  may,  ve  cannot  get  her  quiet." 

"  Tell  her  that  I  am  here  all  safe,  Gretchen,"  said 
Bradford.  "  I  did  not  mean  her  to  know  who  it  was 
had  gone."  To  himself  he  could  not  help  adding  the 
exultant  thought,  even  in  his  anxiety,  "  Does  she  care 
like  that,  then  ?  " 

In  a  moment  more  Charlie  appeared.  "  Aunt  Len- 
nie  wants  to  see  you,  Mr.  Horton.  You'll  have  to  go 
up  ;  it's  the  only  way  to  quiet  her." 

Again  Bradford  did  not  hesitate.  As  he  entered  the 
room,  dimly  lighted,  a  smile  crossed  the  .drawn,  tense 
face  that  lay  so  eagerly  watching  the  door.  "  Oh,  God, 
I  thank  Thee,"  Eleanor  said  weakly,  and  buried  her 
face  in  the  pillow. 

Perplexed,  uncertain,  helpless,  like  every  man  in 
the  presence  of  a  woman's  tears,  Horton  stood  waiting 
beside  the  door.  At  last,  raising  her  head  she  saw  his 
troubled  look,  and  quick  to  divine  its  cause  reached  out 
her  hand  to  him.  He  crossed  the  room  and  took  it  in 
his  own. 

"Is  it  you,  Bradford?  Really  you?"  she  asked 
faintly.  "  And  you're  not  drowned  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  is  I,  Eleanor,  really  I;  and  I  am  not 
drowned."  His  words  were  only  trembling  repetitions 
of  her  own,  but  his  heart  bounded  with  fullness  of  joy. 

"  I've  been  so  afraid — so  afraid,"  she  whispered,  rais- 
ing to  his  the  lustrous  eyes  that  he  had  seen  in  dreams 


BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

so  long.  Forgetful  of  all  else  he  stooped  and  took  her 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  her,  careless  of  Charlie's  pres- 
ence behind  him. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  any  longer,  dear  heart,"  he 
said.  In  that  moment  while  she  clung  to  him  they  did 
not  hear  the  opening  door,  but  footsteps  behind  him 
made  him  turn  to  see  in  the  doorway  Ansley  Jickers, 
smiling,  and  Richard  Elmore,  glowering  and  stern  and 
pale  as  death. 

Standing  at  the  bedside,  the  clinging  hand  still  in  his 
own,  Bradford  faced  the  interruption.  At  sight  of  her 
father's  face  the  girl's  eyes  dilated.  "Oh,  daddy, 
daddy  !  "  she  began. 

"  Hush !  Not  a  word !  "  The  anger  in  his  voice 
frightened  her.  "  Ansley,  you  take  Charles  home.  I 
will  stay  till  morning.  Tell  Mrs.  Elmore  to  send  up 
the  carriage  early.  As  for  you,"  starting  with  fierce 
wrath  towards  Horton,  "  you  reptile " 

"  Don't,  daddy  !  " 

He  turned  on  her  as  fiercely.  "  Silence  !  Remem- 
ber your  promise  to  me !  " 

"With  a  sob  she  turned  her  face  away.  Shanghai  and 
her  word  of  honour  given  there  seemed  to  her  to  rise 
like  an  impassable  barrier  between  her  and  the  man 
whom  the  terror  of  the  night  had  shown  her  she  loved 
well. 

"  Mr.  Elmore," — the  voice  was  that  of  Ansley  Jickers 
— "  this  is  one  of  the  times,  I  think,  when  silence  for 
all  parties  concerned  is  a  safety-valve.  Come  along 
down,  Charlie ;  I  have  dry  clothes  for  you.  And, 
Eleanor,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  rescue  and  your 
rescuer.  Jake  told  us  outside  what  Bradford  did." 

"When  the  lawyer  and  his  stepson  had  gone,  there  was 
dead  silence  in  the  room  save  for  Eleanor's  sobbing. 


ILL  WINDS  NOT  WITHOUT  GOOD      245 

The  two  men  faced  each  other,  eyes  meeting  with  sharp 
impact,  neither  speaking,  neither  flinching.  At  last 
the  elder  man  walked  to  the  door,  opened  it,  stepped 
back  and  pointing  to  its  threshold  said  with  unutterable 
scorn,  "  Go  !  " 

"  Mr.  Elmore,"  Bradford  replied  with  calm,  soft  voice, 
"  there  lies  your  daughter.  But  for  me  she  would  be 
lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake.  I  perilled  my  life  to 
save  her.  Here  you  stand.  But  for  me  you  and  Mrs. 
Elmore  would  be  in  awful  suspense  this  livelong  night, 
not  knowing  what  had  happened  to  your  daughter.  I 
perilled  my  life  to  carry  to  you  the  tidings  of  her  safety. 
For  this,  your  only  word  to  me  is  one  of  scornful  dis- 
mission. I  will  obey  it. 

"  No — wait  one  moment,"  as  the  other  started  forward 
to  break  roughly  his  detaining  clasp  upon  the  hand  in 
his.  "  I  have  not  finished  till  I  say  that  though  your 
will  may  keep  our  lives,  hers  and  mine,  apart  forever- 
more,  you  have  no  power  to  make  her  stop  loving  me, 
to  make  me  stop  loving  her.  Now,  I  will  say  good- 
night, and  I  shall  never  speak  to  you  again." 

He  raised  the  hand  he  held  to  his  lips,  then  gently 
relinquished  it,  with  a  calmness  and  assurance  that  by 
its  force  held  Mr.  Elmore  back  from  interference. 
"  Good-bye,  Eleanor,"  he  said.  "  Good-bye,  dear.  God 
will  watch  between  us  both." 

Before  Mr.  Elmore  recovered  from  his  surprise  at  be- 
ing so  dominated  by  the  will  of  another  stronger  than 
he  the  door  had  closed  and  left  him  alone  with  his 
daughter. 


XXVI 
"GONE— BUT  NOT  FOBEVER" 

PRESTONBUKY  knew  the  story  of  the  wreck  and 
rescue  before  noon  next    day.     The  Evening 
Journal  paid  a  glowing  tribute  to   Professor 
Horton.     Boating  parties  stopped  at  Jake's  the  second 
afternoon  to  offer  congratulations,  but  the  hero  was 
not  there.    To  all  Jake  told  the  same  story. 

"  It  vas  dis  vay :  Brofessor  Horton  pulled  der  frau- 
lein  from  der  vasser.  Den  he  row  avay  down  der  lake. 
He  sendt  vordt  to  der  old  man,  den  he  row  pack. 
Yen  der  fater  come,  Mr.  Horton,  he  go  avay.  No,  I 
not  expect  he  vill  come  pack.  He  take  his  poat  und  all 
his  dings.  He  go  ;  das  ist  alles." 

Conjecture  was  wide  and  puzzled  as  to  why  Horton 
had  vanished.  It  had  suddenly  dawned  upon  his  friends, 
who  had  all  this  time  supposed  him  at  Glencoe  and  had 
wondered  somewhat  at  not  hearing  from  him,  that  he 
had  spent  the  summer  actually  in  hiding  at  Jake's. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  he  was  doing  up  there,  all 
alone?"  one  said  to  another,  and  Joe  Jickers  would 
reply,  to  veil  what  he  thought  he  knew  to  be  the  true 
reason,  "  Giving  himself  new  lessons  in  how  to  be  dif- 
ferent from  anybody  else.  He  probably  got  up  that 
storm  just  to  show  what  he  could  do." 

But  why  he  had  disappeared  just  in  the  hour  of  such 
triumph  not  even  Joe  could  explain,  and  Ansley  and  his 
stepson,  who  could  have  explained,  kept  their  own 
counsel. 

246 


"  GONE— BUT  NOT  FOREVER  "          247 

On  the  day  when  the  seminary  opened,  however, 
Horton  was  in  his  place  with  his  associates,  and  on  the 
following  Sunday  he  preached  the  first  chapel  sermon 
to  an  auditorium  crowded  with  people  from  the  town, 
who  said  as  they  left  after  the  service,  "  He  can  preach 
almost  as  well  as  he  can  sing."  Not  even  the  presence 
of  Eleanor  Elmore,  sitting  at  one  side  with  her  sister 
Caroline,  could  overturn  his  poise,  though  he  flushed 
with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  her. 

To  meet  her  socially,  however,  with  matters  at  the 
point  they  stood  between  them  he  felt  would  be  an  im- 
possibility for  both.  Honour  would  not  allow  him  to 
ask  from  her  an  explanation  of  the  "  promise "  to 
which  he  had  heard  her  father  make  reference  on  the 
night  of  the  storm,  and  he  realized  that  she  was  not  a 
woman  either  to  break  a  promise  or  to  volunteer  an  ex- 
planation, even  to  the  man  she  loved,  until  it  was  asked 
for.  With  affairs  at  such  a  deadlock  there  was  nothing 
to  do  but  to  perform  steadily  his  seminary  work  until 
the  achievement  he  had  laid  down  for  himself  there 
should  be  accomplished,  and  to  avoid  every  possible  sit- 
uation that  would  give  Eleanor  pain. 

Accordingly,  he  resigned  from  the  Shakespeare  Club, 
and  as  the  winter  passed  declined  such  invitations  to 
social  functions  as  he  had  accepted  readily  enough  the 
year  before.  He  had  no  heart  even  for  the  cozy  fireside 
of  Joe  and  Alice  Jickers,  who  wondered  disappointedly 
at  his  desertion  of  them.  Joe,  keen  observer  that  he 
was,  did  not  doubt  that  Mr.  Elmore  was  in  some  way 
responsible  for  the  transformation  of  his  "  new  type  " 
into  a  recluse,  and  he  had  more  than  a  suspicion  that 
Eleanor  was  in  some  way  involved  as  he  saw  her  lack 
of  animation  and  her  increasing  quiet  of  manner. 
Gracious  and  lovely  as  ever,  she  seemed  to  have  lost  the 


248  BKADFOKD  HORTON :  MAN 

bubbling  spirits  that  had  been  one  of  her  charms.  He 
said  nothing,  however,  even  to  his  wife. 

There  were  no  more  of  the  frequent  chats  in  Ansley's 
office  that  Bradford  had  come  to  enjoy  in  the  preceding 
winters.  The  senator  was  much  in  Albany,  and  only 
once  when  he  was  at  home  did  Horton  call  upon  him. 
That  was  on  the  day  after  Samuel  Maxwell's  funeral ; 
the  cashier  had  died  suddenly  from  heart  failure,  and 
Ansley  had  been  called  home. 

"  You  haven't  been  to  see  me  once  this  winter,  Brad- 
ford," Ansley  hailed  him  as  he  appeared  in  the  office. 

"  No,  I've  been  very  much  occupied." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  You  are  no  busier  than  you  were  a 
year  ago.  You're  taking  that  Branscombe  incident  too 
much  to  heart,  my  boy.  That  will  all  clear  up.  Take 
a  new  tack.  You'll  make  port  by  and  by,  with  Eleanor 
on  board,  too." 

"  Don't,  Ansley,  please.  I  did  not  come  about  such 
things.  There's  a  grave  in  my  heart  and  the  flowers 
are  not  blooming  on  it  yet.  I  want  to  bring  Barney 
back  to  Prestonbury  and  put  him  in  Maxwell's  place. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  me  he  would  succeed  now 
to  the  post  naturally.  I  want  him  to  have  it  all  the 
same." 

"  What  a  man  you  are,  Brad !  Always  thinking 
about  some  one  else  and  never  about  yourself.  I  can 
put  Barney  in  there,  and  I  will,  too,  just  for  you." 

Bradford  rose.  "  Good,  Ansley.  That's  all  I  came 
for.  Good-bye. " 

When  Barney  O'Toole  returned  to  Prestonbury  people 
were  greatly  surprised — first,  that  the  bank  would  have 
Mm;  next,  that  he  was  called  Barney  O'Toole;  and 
last,  that  he  and  Horton  were  the  closest  friends  and 
companions.  Yet  the  professor  never  stepped  inside 


"GONE— BUT  NOT  FOKEVER"          249 

the  bank,  even  to  see  Barney.  He  kept  his  bank  ac- 
count now  at  the  Orsina  National.  He  met  Mr.  Elmore 
occasionally  on  the  street,  but  never  gave  him  the 
slightest  sign  of  recognition,  and  to  avoid  meeting  him 
on  Sundays  he  gave  up  the  choir  and  was  away  some- 
where preaching  almost  every  week. 

In  May  he  paid  a  second  thousand  dollars  upon  the 
mortgage  against  his  mother's  house. 

•'  Half  gone  now,  Ansley,"  he  said  as  he  laid  down 
his  check.  "  Two  halves  will  make  a  whole.  And  I'll 
pay  the  other  half.  You'll  not  lose  anything  by  what 
you  did  for  me." 

"  I  should  not  regret  it  if  I  did.  When  I  once  make 
up  my  mind  to  do  a  thing  I  accept  all  it  brings.  It's 
all  part  of  the  day's  work,  Brad.  Are  you  going  to 
Glencoe  this  summer  ?  " 

"  No.  I  will  be  in  Berlin  in  two  weeks.  I  sail  now 
in  two  days." 

On  the  anniversary  of  the  storm  upon  Orsina  Lake 
Eleanor  Elmore  received  a  letter  postmarked  "  Berlin." 
It  was  very  brief,  but  it  filled  her  heart  with  joy. 

"  DEAR  ELEANOR  : 

"  This  is  the  anniversary. 

"  Lovingly, 

"  BRADFORD." 

That  was  all.  He  gave  no  foreign  address,  but 
found,  as  he  hoped  he  might,  when  he  had  returned  to 
his  post  in  September  a  letter  which  read, 

"  DEAR  BRADFORD  : 

"  I  have  not  forgotten. 

"  Lovingly, 

"  ELEANOR." 


250  BKADFOED  HORTOX :  MAN 

So  passed  another  year  and  then  another.  Bradford 
Horton,  the  boy  who  stood  before  the  clock  tower  with 
a  half-dollar  in  his  hand,  had  become  a  man,  stern, 
strong,  silent. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  year  he  sat  one  morning  in 
the  office  of  Senator  Jickers,  waiting  the  lawyer's 
coming.  "When  he  arrived  Bradford  went  directly  to 
the  matter  he  had  in  hand. 

"  I've  come  to  pay  up  that  mortgage,  Ansley."  He 
handed  the  lawyer  his  check  for  principal  and  interest. 
"  Get  the  paper  for  me,  will  you  ?  "  he  added. 

Ansley  produced  the  mortgage.  Horton  looked  at  it 
a  moment,  turning  it  over  nervously,  while  his  friend 
watched  him  in  troubled  silence. 

"  Send  the  satisfaction  piece  to  my  mother  in  Glencoe, 
will  you,  Ansley  ? "  he  said,  breaking  the  pause  at 
last. 

"  You  prefer  to  have  me  send  it  ?  " 

"If  you  will."  He  rose.  "Good-bye,  Ansley. 
You've  been  a  good  friend  to  me.  Good-bye."  And 
before  the  astonished  lawyer  could  make  reply  he  was 
gone. 

"  Caroline,"  Ansley  Jickers  said  to  his  wife  that 
night, "  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  Bradford  Horton. 
He  has  changed  entirely.  He  acts  like  a  living  dead 
man.  He's  got  some  course  mapped  out,  I  don't  know 
what,  and  I  didn't  dare  ask  him  a  question  this 
morning,  well  as  I've  known  him.  It  seems  as  if  some- 
thing must  have  happened  to  quench  the  fire  of  every 
sentiment  in  his  soul." 

"  Don't  you  know  what  ?  You  were  at  Jake's  that 
night,  and  I  should  think  you  would." 

"  Oh,  in  a  general  way.  But  I  never  knew  what  led 
up  to  that  situation,  nor  what  happened  after  Charlie 


"GONE— BUT  NOT  FOREVER"         251 

and  I  went  down-stairs.  Even  a  lawyer  can't  ask 
questions  about  such  things." 

"  Well,  Eleanor  told  me  without  my  asking  questions. 
Poor  child,  she  had  to  tell  somebody.  It  seems  she 
and  father  had  a  quarrel  in  Shanghai,  all  because 
father  became  possessed  of  the  idea  that  she  was  in- 
fatuated with  Bradford  and  that  he  was  in  love  with 
her.  It  was  the  excitement  then  that  brought  on  that 
long  illness  of  father's.  I  don't  suppose  she  realized 
herself,  then,  that  she  cared  anything  about  Bradford, 
but  she  didn't  like  injustice  and  she  took  his  part,  and 
the  upshot  of  it  was,  she  promised  father,  to  quiet  him, 
I  suppose,  that  she'd  never  marry  Bradford  or  any- 
body else  against  his  will.  You  know  how  she  regards 
a  promise,  and  you  know  how  proud  he  is,  so  there 
you  have  it." 

"  But  your  father  had  been  well  disposed  enough,  I 
thought,  to  Bradford  all  that  first  winter  after  they 
came  home." 

"  I  know.  But  Lennie  says  he  came  to  their  house 
just  after  the  seminary  closed  that  summer  and  was 
closeted  with  father  for  an  hour,  and  that  was  just  be- 
fore he  went  away.  Nobody  heard  any  more  of  him 
till  the  night  of  the  storm,  you  know.  Now,  my  theory 
is  that  he  asked  permission  that  night  to  ask  Lennie  to 
marry  him,  and  Father  Elmore  refused,  and  their  next 
meeting  was  at  Jake's,  and  you  know  what  that  was." 

"  You've  got  quite  a  head,  Caroline !  Did  she  hap- 
pen to  say  what  more  happened  that  night  that  I  didn't 
see?" 

"  Yes.  Father  ordered  Bradford  to  clear  out,  to  put 
it  briefly,  and  Bradford  faced  it  out  and  told  him  he'd 
never  speak  to  him  again.  He  hasn't — hasn't  spoken  or 
recognized  father  in  any  way.  Father'!!  never  come 


252  BKADFORD  HOETON  :  MAN 

round,  I'm  afraid,  and  Eleanor  feels  she's  tied  by  her 
promise,  and  she's  afraid  to  mention  the  subject  to  him 
for  fear  of  bringing  on  another  stroke.  She  says  Brad- 
ford will  never  lay  himself  open  to  another  such  scene. 
She  doesn't  blame  him — I  think  she  rather  loves  him 
better  for  his  honourableness — but  she's  breaking  her 
heart,  and  that  nearly  breaks  mine."  The  tears  were 
in  her  eyes  as  she  finished. 

Ansley  had  grown  graver  and  graver.  "  I  wonder 
what  set  Elmore  so  against  the  fellow,  anyway,"  he  re- 
flected aloud.  "  He  lived  down  the  Drum  episode 
long  ago,  and  I  never  knew  your  father  to  be  so  prej- 
udiced and  narrow  in  anything  before.  Bradford's 
proved  long  ago  what  his  character  was,  father  or  no 
father." 

Caroline  hesitated.  "  Eleanor  swore  me  to  secrecy 
on  one  point  I  haven't  told  you,  Ansley.  I'm  afraid 
you'll  let  it  get  back  to  Father  Elmore  if  I  tell  you,  and 
that  would  grieve  her  so." 

"  Don't  you  know  me  yet,  Mrs.  Ansley  Jickers  ? 
Don't  you  know  I'm  wise  and  wary  and  have  a  deep 
well  to  keep  secrets  in  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  drop  this  into  it.  Lennie  says  that  just 
at  the  time  of  the  Drum  business  her  father  had  a 
spiteful,  malicious  letter  from  Bradford's  adopted 
mother — the  one  in  Glencoe  he's  done  everything  for 
since  then — saying  that  he  was  a  nameless  child  left  on 
her  door-step  and  brought  up  by  her  husband,  and  that 
he'd  always  been  wicked  and  ungrateful.  Father  was 
influenced  by  that,  of  course." 

Ansley  whistled  long  and  expressively.  "  So  that's 
the  rest  of  the  matter !  Well,  it's  a  pity  Brad  has 
taken  himself  off.  I  happen  to  know  that  he  could  set 
himself  perfectly  right  on  that  score,  if  he  only  would. 


"GONE—BUT  NOT  FOREVER"          258 

Even  if  he  were  here,  though,"  he  added,  "  he's  so 
quixotic  that  I  don't  believe  he'd  do  it,  even  if  Mr. 
Elmore  faced  him  with  the  letter  itself." 

"  What  do  you  know,  Ansley  ?  " 

"  Can't  tell  you,  dear.  Lawyer's  confessional  secrets, 
you  know — can't  tell  you."  And  not  another  word 
could  she  persuade  him  to  say  on  the  subject.  Into  his 
mind,  however,  had  flashed  at  once  the  recollection  of 
the  letter  given  him  years  before  by  Mrs.  Horton.  "  I 
wonder,"  he  thought,  "  if  that  wouldn't  set  everything 
right." 

Yet  he  could  not  bring  himself,  in  honour,  to  break 
the  embargo  laid  upon  the  delivery  of  the  inclosure  to 
Mr.  Elmore  without  the  permission  of  the  writer. 
Next  day  he  wrote  for  that  permission,  but  before  an 
answer  to  his  letter  was  received  Bradford's  purpose 
was  too  clear.  He  had  placed  his  resignation  as  pro- 
fessor in  the  hands  of  the  directors,  had  refused  all  re- 
quests to  reconsider  his  decision  and  before  the  week 
was  ended  had  left  the  city,  leaving  no  word  as  to 
his  destination. 

He  had,  however,  left  one  matter  of  personal  interest 
in  the  hands  of  Barney  O'Toole.  Eleanor  Elmore  was 
taken  by  surprise  when  one  day  the  cashier  called  upon 
her.  "  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  Miss  Elmore,"  he  be- 
gan, "  which  Mr.  Horton  left  with  me,  asking  me  to 
give  it  to  you  in  person  after  he  had  been  away  a  week. 
That  is  why  I  have  ventured  to  call." 

She  took  the  letter  and  thanked  him.  "  Will  it  em- 
barrass you  if  I  ask  where  Professor  Horton  has  gone  ?  " 
she  asked  hesitatingly. 

"  No,  but  I  can't  answer  the  question.  I  only  wish  I 
did  know  where  he's  gone.  He's  the  best  friend  ever  I 
had,  Miss  Elmore." 


254  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

Eleanor  made  no  comment  on  the  little  confidence  ; 
her  interest  in  her  own  matters  was  too  great. 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Sleighton  knows  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  may,  but  I  think  not.  He  took  all  his  money  in 
gold ;  when  I  offered  him  a  draft  he  said  a  draft  would 
mean  identification,  which  shows  he  doesn't  mean  to 
have  any  one  know  where  he  is." 

Barney  did  not  prolong  his  call,  but  as  he  left  his 
abstracted  hostess  she  added  to  her  good-night,  "  Come 
again,  Mr.  O'Toole.  You're  Mr.  Horton's  friend,  and  I 
shall  always  be  glad  to  see  you." 

Left  alone,  Eleanor  took  the  precious  letter  away  to 
her  own  room.  Its  pages  were  full  of  affection;  in 
them  he  told  the  story  of  his  long  love  for  her,  told 
how  it  began  before  the  gate  on  Sunset  Hill,  the  day  of 
his  first  sight  of  her.  He  told,  too,  why  he  felt  that  he 
must  go  away  from  her. 

"  Do  not  try  to  find  where  I  have  gone,"  he  wrote. 
"  God  has  called  me  to  a  work  which  I  can  do.  I  must 
do  it."  He  left  her  as  a  parting  gift  his  boat-house  and 
the  land  it  stood  on,  and  the  boat  in  which  he  had 
saved  her  life.  "  Its  name,"  he  added,  "  is  that  by 
which  in  my  mind  I  have  always  called  you."  She 
smiled  through  the  tears  that  had  gathered,  then  went 
on  to  the  ending  of  the  letter.  "  We  shall  meet  again, 
my  dearest,"  it  read.  "  I  don't  know  how  nor  where, 
but  God  knows,  and  our  betrothal  in  Jake's  cottage 
God  will  sanction  and  smile  on  by  and  by." 

Twilight  faded  into  darkness  as  she  sat  still  at  the 
window.  The  full  moon  flooded  with  light  the  western 
hills  towards  which  her  room  looked  out  and  touched 
the  fleecy  clouds  with  silver. 

"  Gone,"  she  said,  over  and  over.  "  Gone  !  But  not 
forever — oh,  not  forever  !  God,  let  it  not  be  forever. 


"GONE— BUT  NOT  FOREVER"          255 

He  has  loved  me  too  long,  too  patiently,  too  truly. 
And,  oh,  Bradford,  I  love  you  so  !  I  cannot  tell  you 
so,  dear,  but,  oh,  I  do,  I  do  indeed  !  " 

She  dropped  her  head  upon  her  arms  on  the  window 
sill ;  the  light  touched  the  gold  lights  in  her  bronze 
hair.  "  He  says  that  we  shall  meet  again,"  she  sobbed. 
"  But  when  ?  Oh,  Bradford,  when  ?  " 

Calmer  after  a  little,  she  went  to  her  writing  desk 
and  drew  out  three  letters.  One  was  the  note  of  thanks 
for  the  carnations ;  two  were  identical,  the  annual  re- 
minders of  the  storm  and  their  betrothal.  With  them 
she  placed  this  last.  "  He  loves  me.  I  will  wait  until 
he  comes,"  she  said. 


XXVII 
BEVELATION  AND  EEMORSE 

THE  answer  to  Ansley  Jickers's  letter  to  Glen- 
coe  came  in  far  different  shape  from  what  he 
had  anticipated,  and  only  after  an  interval  of 
ten  days.  Previous  to  receiving  it,  he  spent  one  even- 
ing with  Mr.  Elmore,  with  the  deliberate  intention  of 
hearing  from  that  gentleman's  own  lips  the  truth  about 
his  prejudice  against  Bradford.  Whatever  might  de- 
velop after  he  should  hear  from  Mrs.  Horton,  he  did 
not  wish  it  to  become  necessary  to  explain  the  informa- 
tion he  had  received  from  his  wife,  and  she  in  turn 
from  Eleanor,  which  would  seem  like  a  betrayal  of 
confidence.  So  the  lawyer  proceeded  to  accomplish 
some  of  his  clever  detective  work. 

"They  want  me  to  run  for  governor  this  fall,  Mr. 
Elmore,"  he  began,  as  the  two  sat  smoking  on  the  Sun- 
set Hill  porch. 

"  So  I've  heard.     Well,  you  ought  to  make  it." 

"You  think  so?" 

"Most  certainly.  It  would  gratify  me  greatly. 
Does  the  prospect  of  a  campaign  worry  you  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I'm  not  half  as  much  worried 
over  that  as  I  am  over  this  sudden  resignation  of 
Professor  Horton." 

Mr.  Elmore's  face  hardened.  "That  is  scarcely  a 
thing  to  trouble  about,  or  to  wonder  at.  My  wonder 
is  that  he  did  not  resign  three  years  ago." 

"  What  was  there  to  make  him  resign  then  ?  " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  night  at  the  lake  ?  " 

256 


REVELATION  AND  REMORSE          257 

"  What,  when  he  saved  Eleanor's  life  and  Charlie's  ? 
No,  I  haven't.  I  shouldn't  think  you  ever  would." 

"  Saved  her  life  ?  Yes,  and  then  because  chance 
circumstances  enabled  him  to  save  it  he  insulted  her  be- 
fore my  face.  You're  right  about  my  not  forgetting ; 
it  makes  my  blood  boil  now  to  think  of  it." 

"Easy,  easy,  Mr.  Elmore,"  urged  Ansley  in  his 
smoothest  manner,  as  he  saw  the  older  man's  rising 
wrath.  "  I  remember  what  happened,  but  I  didn't  see 
any  insult.  Oh,  yes,  I  saw  him  kiss  her.  I  don't 
wonder ;  she  looked  as  beautiful  as  Helen  of  Troy.  I'd 
have  done  it  myself.  By  the  way,  are  you  sure  Eleanor 
took  it  as  an  insult  ?  " 

"  Ansley,  we'd  better  not  discuss  this  or  I  shall  be 
angry.  His  action  was  utterly  inexcusable,  after  what 
had  passed  between  him  and  me." 

"  Oh,  ho  !  So  you  and  he  had  talked  about  Eleanor 
before,  had  you  ?  " 

"  We  had.  He  had  the  impudence  to  ask  if  he  might 
offer  himself  to  her." 

"You  call  it  impudence,  do  you,  for  a  man  very 
handsome,  very  well  bred,  very  gifted,  very  popular,  to 
want  to  marry  your  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  call  it  impudence.     That  is  just  what  it  was." 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is  you  astonish  me.  So  you 
told  him  no  ?  " 

"  I  most  certainly  did." 

"  But  why,  Mr.  Elmore  ?  You  must  have  had  some 
reason." 

"  Reason  ?  I  should  say  I  had  reason.  Come  into 
the  office.  I  will  show  you  my  reason." 

As  his  host  led  the  way  into  the  house  Ansley  smiled 
in  satisfaction  under  cover  of  the  darkness.  This  was 
exactly  the  move  towards  which  he  had  been  leading 


258  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

the  unsuspecting  Mr.  Elmore.  Beaching  the  office, 
the  latter  drew  from  his  file  the  long  preserved  letter 
of  Rosalie  Horton,  and  without  a  word  handed  it  to 
Ansley. 

The  lawyer  read  and  reread  it,  as  innocently  as  if  he 
had  never  heard  of  it  before.  "  Well,  well,  well !  "  he 
said  at  last,  with  well  assumed  surprise.  "  Now  at  last 
I've  got  to  the  bottom  of  this  business." 

Mr.  Elmore  had  been  watching  him  closely.  He  had 
great  regard  for  the  opinion  of  this  man.  "What 
business  ?  "  he  asked  quickly.  "  What  do  you  mean, 
Ansley  ?  " 

The  lawyer  paid  no  heed  to  the  question,  but  asked 
another.  "  Of  course  you  showed  Mr.  Horton  this  ?  " 
He  had  no  belief  that  Mr.  Elmore  had  ever  ventured 
such  a  thing  ;  consequently  the  answer  surprised  him. 

"  Yes,  I  did,  on  the  occasion  when  he  outraged  me 
by  asking  for  my  daughter's  hand." 

"  But  this  letter  is  dated  several  years  ago." 

"  Certainly.  I  received  it  at  the  time  of  his  father's 
appearance  here." 

"  And  you  never  showed  it  to  him,  nor  gave  him  a 
chance  to  explain  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Elmore,  but  with  a  little  less  of  self- 
confidence.  His  friend's  evident  disapproval  made  him 
uncomfortable,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  self-justification. 

"  Mr.  Elmore,"  said  Ansley  gravely,  "  you  have  been 
a  just  and  noble  gentleman  through  most  of  your  life, 
but  in  this  matter  it  seems  to  me  you  have  been  neither 
just  nor  noble." 

Mr.  Elmore  made  no  reply,  and  a  silence  fell  between 
them.  Ansley  drew  out  a  third  cigar,  cut  it,  lighted  it 
deliberately,  began  to  smoke,  then  at  last  broke  the 
silence, 


REVELATION  AND  REMORSE          259 

"  What  I  don't  understand,"  he  said,  "  is  why,  when 
you  did  finally  show  him  the  letter,  his  explanation 
didn't  put  everything  right  and  lead  to  harmony  be- 
tween you." 

"  Explanation  ?  "  said  Mr.  Elmore  curtly.  "  He 
made  none." 

"  So  ?  I  suppose  not.  I  have  never  found  him  the 
kind  of  man  who  offers  explanations.  His  idea  is  that 
his  life  should  speak  for  itself.  I  have  always  found 
that  it  did,  and  most  eloquently." 

Something  like  a  sneer  crossed  the  clear-cut  face 
opposite  him.  "You  share  the  current  infatuation,  I 
know,"  Mr.  Elmore  said  coldly.  "  Did  it  never  occur 
to  you  that  the  absence  of  an  explanation  sometimes 
arises  from  the  fact  that  there  is  none  to  offer  ?  " 

"  Sometimes.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Horton  could  have 
refuted  at  least  one  of  the  charges  in  that  letter.  I  can 
tell  you  something  that  does  not  sound  like  ingrati- 
tude." Earnestly  and  slowly  he  began  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  Glencoe  bank  failure,  and  of  Bradford's  part 
therein,  warming  to  his  subject  till  he  was  almost  fiery 
in  his  emphasis  at  the  close  of  the  narrative. 

"  See,  Mr.  Elmore,  what  this  man  has  done  !  In  the 
last  four  years  he  has  bought  the  house  and  paid  for  it 
to  the  last  penny,  the  house  in  which  now  lives  the 
woman  who  wrote  that  letter.  He  has  given  it  by 
deed  to  her,  without  incumbrance.  Besides  this,  he 
has  given  her  every  month  the  money  on  which  she 
has  lived  and  met  her  personal  expenses.  Ten  days 
ago  he  made  the  last  payment  and  sent  the  cancelled 
mortgage  to  this  woman.  You  ask,  why  did  he  not 
resign  three  years  ago  ?  He  remained  here  to  earn  the 
money  to  meet  his  obligations  and  to  secure  this  woman 
a  home,  knowing  all  the  time  what  a  wrong  her  spite 


260  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

had  done  to  him.  Now  he  has  thrown  up  work  he 
loved  and  has  gone,  God  knows  where,  to  get  himself 
out  of  the  sight  of  a  man  who  could  not  recognize 
worth  and  manhood  as  exhibited  before  his  eyes  every 
day." 

"  Have  you  anything  but  his  word  for  all  this  ?  "  in- 
quired Mr.  Elmore  skeptically. 

"  I  have,"  said  Ansley  with  heat.  "  As  his  business 
agent  I  handled  the  money." 

The  statement  was  convincing  even  to  a  prejudiced 
mind. 

"  Well,"  said  the  elder  man  reluctantly,  "  I  must  ad- 
mit there  has  been  great  nobility  in  this  conduct, 
especially  when  done  by  such  a  man  as  he.  We  seldom 
expect  nobility  from  men  of  his  class.  For  no  matter 
what  he's  done,  you  can  see  for  yourself,  Ansley,  that 
he's  a  man  of  no  birth,  probably  of  no  name.  The  letter 
says  it  plainly  enough.  Besides,  he  told  me  himself 
that  his  father  was  that  disreputable  old  vagabond 
whom  he  took  such  pains  to  bury.  And  as  for  his 
mother — well,  we  all  know  what  she  probably  was. 
Could  I  have  such  a  man  as  that  marry  my  daughter  ? 
I  am  an  Elmore,  senator,"  he  ended  proudly. 

The  conversation  closed  there.  Ansley  had  the  in- 
formation he  wanted  at  first  hand.  There  was  nothing 
to  do  now  but  wait  for  a  reply  from  Mrs.  Horton.  But 
when  it  came,  some  two  days  later,  the  Glencoe  letter 
was  written  not  by  Mrs.  Horton  but  by  her  daughter, 
and  consisted  only  of  the  announcement  of  the  mother's 
death  after  a  continued  feebleness  of  some  weeks. 

There  was  now  nothing  to  prevent  the  delivery  of  the 
note  from  her  to  Mr.  Elmore,  but  Ansley  had  a  scheme 
of  his  own  as  to  the  time  and  place  of  the  presentation. 
Morally  certain  of  the  explanation  that  the  letter 


REVELATION  AND  REMORSE          861 

would  contain,  he  formed  a  plan  that  he  felt  would  in 
no  literal  way  break  his  promise  to  Bradford.  He  had 
promised  to  say  nothing  about  his  father ;  well,  he 
would  say  nothing.  Silence  might  be  made  to  prove 
more  expressive  than  words,,  and  if  the  reasoning  which 
led  to  his  resolution  was  sophistical,  he  felt  that  the  ad- 
vantage to  come  to  his  friend  who  so  well  deserved  it 
justified  the  sophistry.  So  the  day  after  the  word  came 
from  Mrs.  Vanderbosch  he  called  for  Mr.  Elmore  at  the 
bank,  just  at  the  closing  hour,  asking  him  to  take  a 
walk. 

The  day  was  lovely,  the  June  fragrance  alluring. 
They  strolled  along  as  if  aimlessly,  talking  of  widely 
varied  subjects,  until  the  green  and  quiet  of  Mount 
Logan  Cemetery  tempted  them  inside  it.  Wandering 
through  the  winding  paths,  they  came,  as  Mr.  Elmore 
thought  unexpectedly,  to  a  remote,  inconspicuous  corner 
where  stood  a  lately  erected  granite  block.  "  Have  you 
happened  to  notice  that,  Mr.  Elmore  ?  "  said  Ansley, 
pointing  it  out  casually. 

The  older  man  glanced  at  the  inscription,  then  looked 
more  closely,  then  read  aloud,  as  if  not  crediting  his 
own  sight,  the  words  engraven  there : 

"Erected  in  Memory 

of 

Anson  Horton 

and  His  Wife,  Laura  Salter, 
by  Their  Son." 

The  face  of  the  reader  turned  very  pale.  "  Laura ! 
My  God  !  "  was  all  he  said.  Passing  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  shaft,  he  read  the  simple  words,  "  My 
mother."  The  two  men  gtood  with  uncovered  heads 


262  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

for  a  moment.  Mr.  Elmore  broke  the  silence.  "I 
never  knew  she  had  a  son,  Ansley." 

After  another  long,  tense  interval,  "  I  suppose  that  is 
Bradford  ?  "  A  moment  later,  "  Was  that  old  vaga- 
bond Anson  Horton  ?  " 

Ansley  nodded,  still  in  silence. 

"  And  you  have  known  it  all  this  time  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Why  have  you  not  told  me  long  ago  ?  " 

"  The  secret  was  not  mine  to  give,  Mr.  Elmore." 

"  But  why  did  he  not  tell  me,  and  put  himself  right 
in  my  eyes  ?  " 

"  His  father's  dying  wish  was  that  you  should  not 
know  to  what  he  had  come;  he  remembered  your 
family's  opposition  to  his  marriage  with  Laura  Salter. 
A  man  with  the  spirit  of  a  Bayard  will  not  break  a 
promise  to  the  dead.  He  compelled  me  also  to  keep 
his  secret." 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  blind,  blind ! "  groaned  Mr.  El- 
more. Shaken  and  weak,  he  sat  down  upon  a  near-by 
stone  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  "  If  I  had  not 
been  possessed  of  an  evil  spirit  I  should  have  reasoned 
it  out.  But  I  thought  Anson  was  dead — I  never  knew 
Laura  had  a  son — and  who  could  have  recognized  poor 
old  Drum  as  the  brilliant  young  man  who  married  her  ? 
But  I  knew  he  went  to  the  devil,  and  I  might  have  put 
two  and  two  together." 

"  Wasn't  that  exactly  what  you  did  do,  my  friend  ?  " 
said  Ansley  with  real  pity  for  the  heart-brokenness  he 
had  caused.  "  You  put  Drum  and  Rosalie  Horton's 
letter  together,  and  added  them  up  wrong." 

Mr.  Elmore  looked  up.  "  Yes,  it  was  the  letter  that 
misled  me.  What  do  you  suppose,  Ansley,  could  have 
been  her  motive  for  lying  so  ?  " 


REVELATION  AND  REMORSE          263 

Ansley  produced  a  sealed  envelope.  "  Perhaps  this 
tell,"  he  said.  "  She  did  not  want  it  given  you  till 
after  her  death,  thinking,  I  gather,  that  Bradford  had 
succeeded  in  spite  of  her  and  unwilling  to  be  humiliated 
in  her  lifetime.  I  had  word  of  her  death  yesterday. 
She  was  not  a  woman  of  as  noble  character  as  the 
mother  from  whom  Bradford  inherited  his." 

Mr.  Elmore  was  hardly  listening ;  his  mind  was  in- 
tent upon  the  letter. 

"  DEAR  RICHARD  : 

"  When  you  read  this  I  shall  be  at  rest.  I  could 
not  bear  to  have  you  read  it  while  I  lived.  I  once  wrote 
you  a  letter  in  which  I  did  my  adopted  son  Bradford 
great  wrong.  It  was  written  in  anger,  -and  I  am  thank- 
ful to  learn  that  my  attempt  to  cause  both  you  and 
him  humiliation  failed.  I  learn  that  his  own  record 
in  Prestonbury  has  made  for  him  the  position  I  tried  to 
keep  him  from.  I  am  myself  humiliated  when  I  think 
of  his  wonderful  goodness  to  me,  in  saving  my  home 
for  me  when  the  conduct  of  my  own  son  had  left  me 
homeless. 

"  I  want  now  to  say  what  the  truth  was  that  under- 
lay the  false  impression  my  letter  was  meant  to  convey. 
Bradford  was  indeed  left  on  my  door-step,  as  I  wrote, 
but  we  knew  all  about  who  he  was,  for  his  father  was 
my  husband's  brother  Anson,  whom  you  yourself  knew, 
as  he  married  your  almost  sister.  You  knew,  too,  An- 
son's  record ;  he  broke  Laura's  heart  and  had  no  means 
of  bringing  up  her  child,  so  we  undertook  it.  There 
is  no  trait  in  Bradford  like  his  father.  You  must 
have  seen  his  likeness  to  his  mother,  and  in  many 
ways,  too,  he  is  like  my  husband. 

"  Rejoicing  that  you  have  been  the  friend  you  have 
to  Bradford,  and  trusting  that  you  will  not  think  too 
scornfully  of  one  who  can  do  nothing  more  than  this  to 
make  amends,  I  am  yours  remorsefully, 

"ROSALIE  M.   HORTON." 


264  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

The  letter  fluttered  to  the  ground  as  Mr.  Elmore 
dropped  his  hands  helplessly  to  his  side.  "  Blind  and 
more  than  blind  !  "  he  murmured.  "  Oh,  Ansley,  what 
a  blunder,  what  a  perverse  and  stubborn  blunder  I  have 
made !  But,"  with  a  sudden  arousing  of  the  spirit  in 
him  that  made  him  feel  no  circumstance  could  be  too 
strong  for  his  will,  "  I  will  set  it  right  at  once." 

"  You  cannot,  Mr.  Elmore,"  said  Ansley  soberly. 
"  Bradford  has  gone,  you  know,  and  left  not  a  trace  be- 
hind. He  will  be  hard  to  find,  if  he  has  made  up  his 
mind  not  to  be  found." 

They  started  homeward.  Winding  among  the  shrub- 
bery that  lined  the  walks,  they  came  at  a  sudden  turn 
face  to  face  with  Eleanor,  the  warm  colour  flooding  the 
grave,  sweet  face  that  bent  above  an  armful  of  June 
roses.  Startled,  she  half  turned  as  if  to  escape,  but  her 
father  stopped  her  with  a  tenderness  in  his  voice  that 
had  never  been  there  even  in  the  days  of  her  girl- 
hood, long  past. 

"  The  flowers  are  so  beautiful,  dear.  Were  you  tak- 
ing them  yonder  ?  "  He  pointed  in  the  direction  where 
lay  the  lonely  grave. 

She  bowed  her  head  in  assent ;  in  the  sudden  revul- 
sion of  feeling  from  hopelessness  to  hope  she  could  not 
trust  her  voice. 

"  Come,  dear.  I  will  go  back  with  you."  His  arm 
was  lovingly  about  her.  "  I  understand  it  all  now,  my 
poor  Lennie.  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

Ansley  Jickers  had  not  heard  the  last  words ;  he  had 
walked  quietly  away.  His  work  was  done.  "  I  knew 
she  would  do  that,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  That's  why  I 
told  her." 


xxvni 

THE  SENGEB  IN  THE  WOODS 

THE  second  summer  after  that  day  when  father 
and  daughter  stood  together  at  the  grave  of 
old  Anson  Horton  was  the  first  that  the  El- 
mores  spent  in  the  new  house  on  Jake's  point.  With 
some  difficulty  Mr.  Elmore  had  persuaded  the  con- 
servative German  to  part  with  his  land  and  purchase 
elsewhere.  The  beautiful  summer  home  which  was 
erected  on  the  site  of  the  old  farmhouse  was  Eleanor's, 
by  her  father's  gift,  and  the  name  she  gave  it  made  of 
it  a  memorial — "  The  Shelter."  When  the  fourth  of 
the  anniversary  notes  came  that  year,  the  recollection 
of  the  crisis  that  it  signalized  was  all  the  more  vivid, 
as  she  read  it  in  the  very  place  made  dear  to  her  by 
that  storm  and  rescue  so  long  past. 

In  the  more  than  a  year  that  had  passed  since  Brad- 
ford Horton's  departure  nothing  had  been  heard  of 
him,  and  the  silence  which  surrounded  him  seemed  im- 
possible to  dissolve  by  any  effort  that  could  be  made. 
Such  efforts  on  Mr.  Elmore's  part  were  untiring,  but 
beyond  the  railway  terminus  in  New  York,  to  which 
the  ticket  agent  remembered  that  he  had  purchased 
transportation,  no  clew  could  be  found  by  which  to 
trace  his  movements. 

The  months  of  anxiety,  of  mental  and  sentimental 
struggle,  had  told  heavily  on  Mr.  Elmore,  and  he  had 
aged  rapidly.  "  If  I  had  only  known — if  I  would  only 
have  let  myself  see  !  "  were  the  words  oftener  on  hia 

265 


266  BRADFOKD  HORTON :  MAN 

lips  than  any  others,  and  Eleanor,  seeing  his  grief,  for- 
got every  feeling  of  resentment  that  had  ever  hardened 
her  heart,  put  aside  her  own  pain  and  loneliness  and 
answered  tenderly,  day  after  day  : 

"  Let  it  go,  daddy  dear.  It  will  all  come  right  some 
time.  Bradford  said  that  we  would  meet  again. 
Don't  grieve — that  can't  help  any,  and  only  makes  it 
worse  for  me.  Believe  me,  it  will  all  come  right." 

But  even  as  she  comforted  him,  her  loveliness,  and 
his  remembrance  of  how  he  had  robbed  her,  would 
deepen  his  remorse,  while  at  the  same  time  it  made  him 
constantly  more  dependent  on  her  strength. 

Eleanor,  too,  had  grown  more  than  a  year  older  in 
the  year's  time.  Resolutely  refusing  to  let  her  sadness 
sadden  others,  the  effort  at  self-control  made  her 
strong,  and  her  determined  faith  for  a  future  of  happi- 
ness somewhere  kept  her  from  bitterness.  Those  of 
her  own  circle  who  knew  her  secret  wondered  at  her 
steady  cheerfulness,  at  her  interested  sharing  in  all  the 
pleasures  of  her  friends.  But  in  her  letters  Lucy  Sleigh- 
ton  could  sometimes  detect  an  undertone  of  sadness,  and 
Caroline  Jickers  had  once  or  twice  been  her  refuge  and 
comforter  when  the  uncertainty  and  strain  became  too 
hard  to  bear.  Lucy,  taking  Caroline  into  her  confidence, 
formed  with  her  a  conspiracy  to  persuade  Eleanor  to 
come  to  St.  Paul  for  the  rest  and  change  that  were 
really  so  much  needed. 

The  plot  was  clever.  Lucy  invited  Alice  Jickers 
also  to  make  her  a  visit ;  Joe  promptly  decided  that  he 
would  accompany  his  wife  and  ["use  the  journey  as  a 
pretext  for  a  hunting  trip  in  northern  Minnesota.  The 
next  move  was  to  induce  Charles  Elmore  to  go  with 
Joe,  which  left  Charlie's  mother  free  to  spend  the  time 
of  their  absence  at  the  house  on  Sunset  Hill,  Ansley 


THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS          267 

being  in  Albany.  When  Eleanor  was  offered  the  op- 
portunity to  make  the  journey  to  St.  Paul  by  way  of 
the  lakes  and  in  company  with  these  three  companions, 
and  was  assured  that  Caroline  would  take  the  best  of 
care  of  Mr.  Elmore,  whom  she  had  been  reluctant  to 
leave,  the  pressure  of  attraction  was  too  great  for  her 
resistance.  So  it  came  about  that  the  party  of  four  set 
sail  that  October  from  Buffalo  for  Duluth. 

At  Mackinac,  as  they  stood  leaning  over  the  rail 
while  the  steamer  made  its  landing,  among  the  people 
who  came  aboard  from  the  quaint  little  fort  village 
Eleanor's  attention  was  caught  by  the  sight  of  two  men 
in  hunting  garb.  At  once  she  knew  that  a  shuttle 
bearing  a  thread  from  the  past  was  to  fly  across  the 
web  in  the  loom  of  her  life.  "  Do  you  see  that  smooth- 
faced man  in  hunting  costume  ?  "  she  whispered  to  Joe. 

"  Next  the  military-looking  chap  with  the  British 
whiskers  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Keep  him  away  from  me  all  you  can.  He'll 
be  up  here  in  a  minute." 

"  All  right.     Is  he  dangerous  ?  " 

"  Not  the  way  a  gun  is.  He  won't  go  off — that's  the 
difficulty."  She  turned,  as  the  hawsers  were  cast  off,  to 
leave  the  deck  for  her  cabin,  but  not  so  quickly  as  to 
evade  the  man  with  the  smooth  face  in  the  hunting 
dress.  He  had  espied  her  as  he  came  up  the  gang- 
plank and  had  wasted  no  time  in  making  his  way  to  the 
deck.  As  she  turned  he  was  before  her  with  cap  off 
and  right  hand  extended.  "  May  acquaintance  begun 
in  the  old  world  be  continued  in  the  new,  Miss  El- 
more  ?  "  she  heard  him  say. 

If  Malcolm  Stuart  had  thought  her  beautiful  five 
years  ago  in  Berlin,  he  knew  she  had  never  looked  so 
superbly  lovely  as  now,  when  she  took  the  hand  he  of- 


268  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

fered.  "  Between  us,"  she  said,  "  *  auld  acquaintance  ' 
should  not  be  forgot.  Let  me  present  you  to  my  friend 
Mrs.  Jickers,  Mr.  Stuart." 

Thus  in  a  moment  the  party  of  four  had  been  en- 
larged to  one  of  six  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey. 
Sir  Henry  Joralemon,  Stuart's  companion,  was  an  Eng- 
lish merchant,  who  like  many  another  of  his  race  had 
risen  to  wealth  by  his  own  genius  and  industry.  He 
was  a  man  of  forty-five,  tall,  heavily  built  and  looked 
more  like  a  general  in  undress  uniform  than  like  a 
civilian.  His  voice  was  smooth,  his  manners  suave, 
and,  although  devoid  of  any  sense  of  humour,  he  yet 
had  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  meaning  of  commercial 
facts.  He  was  widely  known  in  England  as  a  man  of 
large  benevolence  and  had  been  knighted  by  the  queen 
for  the  founding  of  an  orphanage  in  London. 

Ere  half  an  hour  had  passed  after  the  introductions, 
Joe,  mindful  of  Eleanor's  whisper,  spoke  suddenly  to 
Charlie  Elmore :  "  Your  honour,  wouldn't  you  like  to 
see  the  guns  of  these  two  new  malefactors  ?  " 

Sir  Henry  was  astonished.  He  could  not  at  all  com- 
prehend this  remarkable  phraseology.  "  Did  I  under- 
stand," he  asked,  "  that  you  called  the  young  gentle- 
man '  your  honour '  ?  Is  he  not  young  to  be  a  judge, 
then?" 

"  Counsel  is  in  error.  His  honour  is  not  too  young 
to  be  the  best  judge  of  a  foul  ball  among  all  our  attor- 
neys." 

"  And  who  is  '  counsel,'  Mr.  Jickers  ? "  asked  Sir 
Henry,  no  less  puzzled.  "  And  what  is  a  foul  ball  ?  I 
do  not  comprehend." 

"  Sir  Henry,  you  are  counsel,  and  a  foul  ball  is  one 
that  wanders  outside  the  lines  of  duty,  and  so  does  not 
count,  you  know." 


THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS          269 

"  No,  I  don't  know,  you  know.  And  how  could  a 
ball  count  ?  " 

Malcolm  Stuart  was  Scotch  enough  to  appreciate  a 
joke.  "  Sir  Henry,"  he  chuckled,  when  they  had  all 
stopped  laughing,  "  you'll  have  to  study  Mr.  Jickers  a 
little,  I  fancy.  But  from  what  he  says  I  understand  he 
wants  to  see  our  guns." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  the  baronet,  grasping  with  re- 
lief at  a  statement  he  could  understand.  "  So  that's 
what  he  means  ?  But  I  don't  see,  don't  you  know, 
what  my  gun  has  to  do  with  a  foul  ball." 

The  four  men  were  gone  on  their  tour  of  inspection 
a  half  hour,  and  when  they  returned  to  the  bow  the 
ladies  had  disappeared.  At  dinner,  when  the  six  next 
met,  Eleanor  managed  to  say  to  Joe,  in  passing,  "  That 
was  well  done,  Joseph.  Keep  it  up." 

Accordingly,  Joe  proceeded  to  fasten  himself  to  the 
two  Englishmen,  an  arrangement  with  which  Sir  Henry 
was  well  content,  finding  himself  extremely  well  en- 
tertained by  the  incomprehensible  young  druggist. 
Stuart  had  little  chance  to  talk  reminiscently  or  confi- 
dentially with  Eleanor,  as  Joe  controlled  the  conversa- 

w 

tion.  Once,  however,  impatient  of  the  situation,  he 
asked  very  abruptly,  "  And  how  is  my  acquaintance  of 
the  Rigi,  Miss  Elmore  ?  " 

Joe's  wife  had  not  been  Eleanor's  confidant  to  no 
purpose.  Joe  was  posted  on  the  story  of  that  last 
night  in  Berlin ;  he  knew  Stuart  was  sounding  the  girl 
to  know  whether  the  inopportune  visitor  on  that  occa- 
sion was  still  a  rival  to  be  feared.  Before  Eleanor 
could  answer,  and  regardless  of  etiquette,  he  responded, 
"  Counsel,  the  court  does  not  know  the  name  of  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Rigi.  To  answer  what  the  court 
does  not  know  is  impossible." 


270  BEADFOKD  HORTON :  MAN 

Once  more,  unwittingly,  Sir  Henry  helped  Joe's  pur- 
pose. "  That's  what  I  told  you,  Malcolm,"  he  said  in 
laughing  complaint ;  "  you  can't  comprehend  him,  don't 
you  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can,"  said  Stuart,  a  trifle  annoyed  at  the 
interruption.  "  He  wants  to  know  the  name  of  the 
man  I  met  on  the  Rigi.  I  did  not  mention  it,  as  I  was 
sure  Miss  Elmore  remembered  the  circumstance.  It 
was  Horton,  Mr.  Jickers."  Then  once  more  addressing 
Eleanor  directly,  he  said  what  he  was  sure  Joe  could 
not  reply  to,  "  I  wonder  if  he  will  happen  along  on  this 
trip  as  unexpectedly  as  he  did  that  last  night  in  Berlin  ?  " 

It  was  a  direct  challenge,  a  deliberate  effort  to  get  at 
one  jump  back  into  the  old  relation,  and  Eleanor  so  un- 
derstood it.  The  moment  was  painful  to  her.  The 
rich  colour  flooded  her  face  as  she  began,  "  I  do  not 
think " 

"  Pardon,  counsel,"  interrupted  Joe  with  his  ready 
wit.  "  Court  does  not  wish  opposing  counsel  to  know 
at  this  stage  what  counsel  does  not  think.  Court  can 
tell  what  counsel  thinks  better  than  she  can  herself. 
This  court,  as  well  as  counsel,  has  a  case  against  Brad- 
ford Horton.  He  broke  jail  and  escaped.  He  va- 
moosed. He  decamped.  He  issued  a  writ  of  habeas 
corpus  to  himself,  served  it  on  himself  and  took  away 
the  body." 

Once  more  the  rich  English  coif  ee  merchant  came  to 
Joe's  aid. 

"  But  how  could  he  do  that  ?  I  don't  know,  you 
know.  He  couldn't  do  such  a  thing  as  that,  don't  you 
know." 

By  the  time  this  matter  had  been  explained  Eleanor 
and  Charlie  had  gone  up  the  deck  together,  and  Stuart 
began  for  the  first  time  to  suspect  that  the  girl  was 


THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS  271 

eluding  him  and  that  the  dapper  little  man  was  help- 
ing her  play  the  game.  So  he  accepted  what  he  plainly 
saw  was  inevitable.  He  made  no  more  effort  towards 
Eleanor,  but  like  the  gentleman  he  was,  helped  her  to 
enjoy  the  company  of  himself  and  his  friend.  The  past 
was  past.  He  would  make  no  attempt  to  force  it  into 
the  present.  Eleanor  saw  that  he  saw  and  was  propor- 
tionately grateful. 


It  was  on  Saturday  night,  some  two  weeks  later, 
that  Joe  and  Charlie,  with  two  guides,  entered  the 
camp  of  the  Great  Northern  Lumber  Company  in  upper 
Minnesota.  It  was  the  night  of  the  week  when  the 
lumberjacks  gathered  in  from  their  work  for  a  night 
and  day  of  recreation.  There  were  more  than  a  hun- 
dred of  them — tough,  hard,  strong  fellows,  with  no  re- 
gard for  God  and  but  little  for  man.  For  law  they 
cared  nothing ;  each  man  was  his  own  law.  The  one 
who  could  fell  the  most  trees  in  a  day  and  chop  them 
into  log  lengths,  the  one  who  could  drink  the  most 
whiskey  without  becoming  intoxicated,  the  one  who 
could  tramp  all  night  and  chop  all  day,  the  one  who 
dared  to  bet  his  whole  pile  on  the  game — this  one  was 
accounted  the  best  man  in  the  forest. 

The  guides  with  Joe  and  Charlie  were  Abram  Hall 
and  his  son  Jack.  Abram  was  a  man  of  large  expe- 
rience, knew  every  man  in  that  section  of  the  woods 
and  any  one  for  whom  he  vouched  was  welcome  in  any 
camp.  He  took  Joe  and  Charlie  to  a  small  unoccupied 
bunkhouse.  "Go  in.  Ye'll  be  safe.  Nobody'll  tech 
ye.  Ef  any  feller  does,  ye  holler  for  Abe  Hall." 

Jack  made  a  fire  and  coffee  and  cooked  supper,  and 
after  it  the  two  went  out  among  the  pines.  They  heard 


272  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAJST 

singing  presently  and  started  to  get  nearer.  Meeting 
Abram,  they  asked  him  who  was  the  singer. 

"  The  mish'nary,"  he  replied.  "  He's  jest  come  in  to- 
night. Most  fellers  calls  him  '  The  Hooter.'  I'm  sorry 
he's  come  in." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Charles  Elmore. 

"  'Cause  ye're  down  on  yer  luck.  Thar  won't  be  no 
circumstantial  evidence  goin'  while  the  mish'nary 's  in. 
He  busts  the  game  every  time." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  busting  the  game '  ?  " 

"  Keepin'  the  jacks  from  gettin'  bilin'  drunk.  Keepin' 
'em  from  drawin'  knives  an'  svvingin'  cant-hooks,  an'  all 
sich." 

"Well,  Abram,  that's  a  good  thing." 

"  No,  sir,  'tain't.  'Twon't  do  f er  nobody  ter  bust  the 
game  too  often.  Jacks  wouldn't  be  jacks  ef  ye  busted 
the  game  too  often." 

"  What's  the  missionary's  name  ?  Where  did  he 
come  from  ?  " 

"  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  Don't  nobody  know. 
He  come  in  one  night  with  a  little  wooden  box,  all 
fastened  up  tight.  He  was  carryin'  her  in  his  hand  by 
a  handle.  He  sot  that  'ar  box  down,  an'  opened  her 
up,  an'  began  punchin'  her  with  his  hands,  an'  trampin' 
on  her  with  his  feet,  an'  she  begun  to  squeak  out  tunes. 
Next  thing  we  knew  he  was  a-singin'  a  tune.  Yas,  he 
was,  a-singin',  an'  the  jacks  listenin'. 

"  An'  I  tell  you  he  can  sing.  No  jack  never  heerd 
no  sich  singin'  afore.  He  went  at  it  easy  like,  fust  off, 
singin',  '  I'm  but  a  stranger  here.'  '  That's  so.  You'd 
better  go  to  yer  ma,'  one  jack  hollered.  '  Shut  up,' 
roared  another.  '  I  want  ter  hear  that  song.  I  used 
ter  sing  that  in  Sunday-school.'  Wai,  he  went  on 
tellin'  'bout  heaven's  bein"  his  home.  '  WTiy'don't  ye  go 


THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS  273 

home,  sonny  ?  '  called  out  a  jack.  Then  the  other  jack 
hopped  up  and  squar'd  his  fists,  an'  sez,  *  You  do  that 
ag'in  an'  I'll  bash  yer  face  in.'  Wai,  the  other  feller 
simmered,  an'  then  that  singer  yelled  so  every  feller 
in  camp  jumped.  He  yelled  way  up  high,  '  Heaven  is 
my  fatherland,'  an'  ever  sence  the  jacks  has  called  him 
'The  Hooter.'" 

"  Does  he  preach  ?  "  asked  Charles  Elmore. 

"  Preach  ?  Wai,  that's  the  queer  thing.  I  allus 
s' posed  mish'naries  preached,  but  he  don't.  Jes'  talks 
— but  by  gum  he's  the  durndest  talker  ever  I  see! 
Poker  Bill  kin  talk,  but  the  mish'nary  kin  give  Bill  the 
hull  dickshunary  an'  then  beat  him  fust  showdown." 

"  What  sort  of  talking  ?  "  asked  Charles  Elmore. 

"  Yarns.  Durndest  yarns  ever  I  heerd.  'Bout  a  feller 
makin'  lame  men  walk  an'  deef  men  hear,  an'  all  such 
as  that.  Tells  'em  jes'  's  though  he  b'lieved  'em.  An' 
the  jacks  listen  jes'  's  though  they  was  little  boys  a-lis- 
tenin'  to  their  mas." 

"  What  did  you  say  his  name  was  ?  "  asked  Charles 
Elmore  again. 

"Didn't  say.  Don't  nobody  know.  Some  feller 
asked  him,  an'  sez  he,  'Jes'  call  me  the  mish'nary. 
That's  name  enuff  fer  me.'  " 

As  they  talked  they  had  been  strolling  nearer  the 
spot  from  which  the  music  had  come,  and  now  once 
more  the  voice  of  the  singer  rose,  clear,  sweet  and 
strong,  in  the  words,  "  What  a  Friend  We  Have  in 
Jesus."  Two  of  the  three  listeners  started,  with  a  sur- 
prised exchange  of  significant  glances. 

"Abram,"  said  Joe,  "take  us  round  back  of  your 
missionary,  so  we  can  see  him  without  disturbing  him." 

Making  a  circuit  they  reached  a  spot  quite  close  to 
the  little  organ,  but  where  they  were  unseen  behind 


274  BRADFORD  HORTOK :  MAN 

some  great  trees.  One  glance  was  enough.  "  I  knew 
there  weren't  two  men  alive  with  voices  like  that,"  said 
Joe.  "  Abram,  we've  seen  your  missionary  before." 

"  Sh-h  ! "  said  the  guide  gruffly.  "  Don't  ye  hear  he's 
a-talkin'?" 

The  speaker  was  already  well  into  the  midst  of  his 
talk,  and  from  their  vantage  point  they  could  hear 
every  word. 

"  He  was  dead,  boys,"  he  was  saying ;  "  just  as  dead 
as  Jimmie  the  Snipe  when  the  big  pine  fell  and  the 
stake  went  through  his  body.  There  wasn't  any 
doubt  about  Jimmie  the  Snipe,  was  there  ? "  An 
emphatic  shaking  of  heads  answered.  "Well,  there 
wasn't  any  doubt  about  this  man,  either.  His  name 
was  Lazarus.  He  died,  I  suppose,  because  when  he 
was  taken  sick  his  doctor  had  gone  away,  miles  away 
over  a  big  river.  Lazarus  had  two  sisters,  and  they 
knew  where  the  doctor  had  gone,  and  they  sent  after 
him,  and  finally  he  got  there.  But  it  was  too  late. 
The  man  was  dead  before  the  doctor  reached  the  place 
where  he  lived.  The  funeral  was  over,  too.  He  had 
been  buried  four  days. 

"  They  didn't  dig  graves  in  the  earth  in  that  country 
as  we  do.  They  cut  big  holes  in  the  rocks  and  laid  the 
dead  bodies  in  on  shelves,  and  put  a  big  flat  stone 
at  the  opening  of  the  tomb  to  hold  it  safe.  When  the 
doctor  got  there  he  asked  where  they  had  buried  his 
friend.  So  the  girls  took  him  out  to  show  him.  It 
was  right  in  their  own  garden.  Well,  when  the  doctor 
saw  it  he  felt  mighty  bad,  and  he  said,  i  Take  away  the 
stone.'  And  they  said,  '  Oh,  no  !  He's  been  dead  four 
days.'  *  Take  it  away,  I  tell  you,'  said  the  doctor.  So 
they  took  it  away.  Then  that  doctor  prayed.  Doctors 
don't  do  that  very  often.  None  of  you  ever  saw  a 


THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS  875 

doctor  go  to  a  dead  man's  grave  and  begin  to  pray. 
Well,  he  did.  And  then  he  called  out  loud,  oh,  very 
loud,  '  Lazarus,  come  forth  ! '  And  what  do  you  think  ? 
Out  he  came.  Yes,  he  did,  men.  He  came  right  out. 
I  tell  you  they  were  happy,  for  that  dead  man  had  come 
to  life.  And  they  all  went  up  to  the  house  where  the 
man  had  lived,  and  they  had  dinner.  That  doctor's 
name  was  Jesus,  boys.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Him 
before  ?  Yes,  you  have.  I've  told  you  about  Him." 

And  without  a  break  he  began  to  sing  the  second 
verse  of  the  song  already  begun  — 

"  Are  you  weak  and  heavy  laden, 
Cumbered  with  a  load  of  caret " 

As  the  dramatic  recital  of  the  story  of  the  raising  of 
Lazarus  had  been  in  progress,  it  had  grown  constantly 
harder  for  Joe  to  hold  his  enthusiasm  in  check.  As  the 
verse  of  the  song  finished  he  broke  away  from  Abram's 
detaining  clutch.  "  Let  me  go ! "  he  ordered.  "  He's 
my  long  lost  brother,  I  tell  you,  man  ! "  And  he  ran 
out  from  behind  the  sheltering  trees.  With  a  mighty 
clap  on  the  shoulder  of  the  singer  he  spun  that  sur- 
prised young  man  square  round,  to  look  into  the  beam- 
ing faces  of  two  friends  he  had  not  seen  in  what 
seemed  far  more  than  eighteen  months. 

"  That's  great,  old  chap !  "  Joe  was  crying  excitedly. 
"  That  beats  the  best  thing  you  ever  did  in  Preston- 
bury  !  That  beats  Greek  Testament,  it  beats  banking, 
it  beats  anything!  Shake  hands,  old  man,  shake 
hands!" 

Around  them  there  arose  a  hubbub  of  cries  and 
remonstrances  from  the  jacks,  angry  at  the  intrusion. 
"  Get  out  o'  here ! "  roared  those  nearest.  "  What  ye 


276  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

breakin'  up  our  meetin'  fer  ?  Get  out  o'  here,  or  we'll 
run  ye  up  !  " 

"  No,  you  won't,  boys,"  Joe  Jickers  told  them  jubi- 
lantly. "  The  mish'nary  won't  let  you  touch  me.  I'm 
half  a  doctor  myself,  but  that  yarn  the  Hooter  told 
beats  the  band.  This  Hooter's  my  friend.  I  know  him. 
You  don't.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  his  name.  He's 
Prof.  Bradford  Horton  of  Prestonbury,  N.  Y.,  and  he's 
about  the  best  fellow  in  the  woods." 

"  That's  all  right.  He's  the  best  fellow,  all  right,  but 
who  the  hell  be  ye  ?  What  ye  breakin'  up  our  meetin' 
fer?" 

Bradford  came  to  the  rescue.  "  Hold  on,  boys,"  he 
said,  and  the  men  quieted  at  once.  "  This  is  a  friend  of 
mine,  just  as  he  said.  He's  told  you  my  name ;  I'll 
tell  you  his.  He's  Joe  Jickers.  Not  very  big  in  body, 
but  his  heart's  as  big  as  that  of  any  jack  in  the  woods ; 
big  as  Abe  Hall's ;  big  as  Poker  Bill's.  Come  and 
shake  hands  with  my  friends.  Joe  Jickers  and  Charlie 
Elmore.  Then  I'll  sing." 

Joe  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  knew  men  by 
intuition,  and  he  said  just  the  right  thing  in  the  right 
way  to  each  of  the  men  who  crowded  up.  The  hand- 
shaking over,  Bradford  said,  "  Now,  boys,  close  right 
up,  and  any  fellow  that  knows  the  song  I  am  going  to 
sing,  pipe  up,  too."  He  sounded  the  note  on  the  little 
organ,  and,  standing  under  the  great  old  trees,  he,  a 
homeless  man,  led  those  homeless  men  in  the  dearest  of 
all  songs  to  a  man  who  has  once  known  what  the  word 
home  means,  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

There  was  dead  silence  under  the  pines  when  the 
music  died  away.  In  that  hush  Horton's  voice,  low, 
sweet,  tender,  began  the  old  prayer  whose  first  words 
ar«,  "Our  Father."  Then,  "Good-night,  jacks,"  he 


THE  SINGER  IN  THE  WOODS  277 

said.  "  Don't  fight  to-night.  Let  the  cards  go  to- 
night. To-morrow's  Sunday,  and  I  want  my  friends 
here  to  see  you  all  sober  in  the  morning.  "Will  you 
promise  ?  " 

"  You  bet ! "  came  back  the  roar  from  all  around 
him  as  he  turned  to  go  with  Joe  and  Charlie  to  their 
bunkhouse,  a  much  surprised  but  very  happy  man. 


XXIX 
TIDINGS  FROM  THE  FOREST 

WHEN,  long  after  midnight,  Bradford  Horton 
left  his  friends  and  departed  to  his  own 
cabin,  he  was  informed  of  all  that  had  hap- 
pened in  Prestonbury  since  his  departure.  He  had 
learned  for  the  first  time  of  his  mother's  death,  and 
of  its  important  consequence  to  him  in  Mr.  Elmore's 
change  of  attitude. 

"  He  knows  now,"  his  thoughts  ran  as  he  sat  down 
alone  in  his  lantern-lighted  hut,  "  he  knows  how  unfair 
he  was,  how  cruelly  hard  he  was  and  how  absolutely 
true  I  was.  Eleanor  always  knew  it.  Bless  her  dear 
heart !  She  believed  in  me  in  spite  of  her  father.  Ah, 
well,  we  might  have  been  very  happy,  she  and  I,  in 
that  house  on  Branscombe's  point.  It  can  never  be 
now.  Now  that  I'm  free,  as  far  as  her  father's  con- 
cerned, to  tell  Antigone  I  love  her,  I'm  not  free  in 
another  way.  I  mustn't  ask  her.  I  cannot  ask  her  to 
come  to  a  log  cabin  in  a  forest,  and  here's  where  I 
must  stay,  for  here  God  sent  me.  I  could  tell  Professor 
Dragham  now  to  what  I  was  called  ;  I've  enough  '  sum 
of  direction '  to  show  it." 

Then,  as  the  face  of  his  dreams  rose  before  him, 
wistful  pleading  in  the  lustrous  eyes,  he  dropped  his 
head  on  his  arms  on  the  table  with  a  groan. 

"  Oh,  Antigone,  am  I  breaking  your  heart  too  ?  I'm 
yours ;  I'll  always  be  yours.  But  I  cannot  leave  my 
work  even  for  you.  It  may  be  thus  God  will  have  me 

278 


TIDINGS  FROM  THE  FOREST  2Y9 

atone  for  my  father's  sins.  But,  dear  one,  it's  far 
harder  to  give  you  up  when  it's  only  at  the  word  of 
my  own  conscience,  of  my  own  will,  than  when  circum- 
stances forced  us  apart.  God  is  stronger  even  than 
your  father." 

For  a  moment  he  sat  so,  then  rose  resolutely.  "  This 
will  not  do,"  he  said.  "  I  have  work  to  do  for  my  jacks 
to-morrow."  He  was  ready  presently  for  his  hard, 
bone-racking  bunk,  and  into  it  he  crawled  and  slept 
like  a  little  child  till  morning.  The  struggle  was  over. 

"  Uncle  Joe,  let's  take  Professor  Horton  home  with 
us,"  was  Charlie's  first  utterance  in  the  morning. 

"  My  boy,  did  you  ever  try  to  drive  a  pig  through  a 
gate  when  he  didn't  want  to  go  ?  " 

"  But  Professor  Horton  isn't  a  pig." 

"  He's  worse,  your  honour.  He's  a  man  with  a  stub- 
born will  and  a  noble  purpose,  and  a  conscience  that 
rules  him  as  if  he  had  neither  will  nor  purpose.  Oh,  I 
know  him  !  But  I'll  try." 

The  trying,  however,  was  in  vain.  All  their  argu- 
ments aimed  to  induce  Horton  to  leave  the  camps  and 
go  back  to  civilization  with  them  were  without  avail. 
Only  one  satisfaction  did  Joe  secure — the  promise  that 
the  "  mish'nary "  would  not  leave  his  present  field 
without  informing  his  friends  of  his  whereabouts. 
He  had,  indeed,  no  longer  the  same  reason  for  silence 
and  concealment  that  had  sent  him  away  from  Preston- 
bury  to  hide  from  all  who  knew  him.  He  sent  out 
three  letters,  when  his  friends  left  the  woods ;  one  to 
his  sister,  one  to  Sleighton  and  one  to  Barney  O'Toole. 
In  all  their  talk  no  allusion  had  been  made  to  the  state 
of  affairs  between  himself  and  Eleanor  Elmore.  Joe 
had  not  known  the  details  of  the  denouement  of  Brad- 
ford's identity,  and  had  told  only  the  bare  fact  of  Mr. 


280  BEADFOKD  HOKTON:  MAN 

Elmore's  change  of  heart.  About  more  intimate  mat- 
ters Joe's  delicacy  was  too  great  to  let  him  speak,  and 
Horton  was  not  a  man  to  betray  his  feelings.  He  was 
becoming  more  and  more  the  still,  strong  man. 

On  Monday,  when  the  two  hunters  left  the  camp, 
Abram  Hall  tramped  with  them  as  far  as  Fairthorne. 
"  So  ye  fellers  knowed  the  Hooter  ? "  he  remarked, 
almost  as  soon  as  they  started. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Charlie,  "  we've  known  him  almost 
ten  years.  He  used  to  be  my  teacher,  and  he  lived  at 
my  mother's  house  two  years." 

"  I  swan !  "  said  Abram  briefly.  "  What  sent  him 
in  here  a-hootin'  ?  " 

Joe  answered  this  question.  "  Oh,  he's  different 
from  most  fellows,  Abe.  He  don't  act  like  any  fellow 
you  know.  If  there's  anything  you  want  him  to  do  he 
won't  do  it.  And  if  there's  anything  }'ou  don't  want 
him  to  do  that's  the  thing  he'll  do,  first  chance  he  gets. 
But  he  can  sing,  Abram  Hall.  The  court  says  he  can 
sing." 

"  Ye  bet,  Mr.  Jickers,"  was  Abram's  laconic  reply. 

"  He'll  spoil  his  voice  singing  as  he  does  out  here  in 
the  open  air,"  continued  Joe. 

"  P'haps  that's  so,  boss.  But  he  won't  spile  no  jacks 
doin'  it.  It  don't  spile  jacks  to  get  gin  out  on  'em,  an' 
that's  what  he's  doin'.  An'  he's  goin'  ter  build  a 
mish'nary  house  in  here,  too.  A  reg'lar  gospel  bunk, 
ye  know.  But,  Lordy,  he  don't  need  no  mish'nary 
house.  The  big  bunkhouse  an'  outdoors  is  all  he  needs 
fer  singin'  an'  yarnin'.  But  he's  got  an  idee  that  he 
wants  a  mish'nary  house,  an'  he's  goin'  down  ter  St. 
Paul  ter  git  the  quaderlater'ls." 

"The  what?" 

"The  quaderlater'ls.     Them's  the  things  ye  write 


TIDINGS  FKOM  THE  FOKEST  281 

onto,  an'  shove  'em  inter  a  bank  winder,  an'  ye  kin  git 
money  on  'em  if  ye've  got  any  feller  what  knows  ye, 
an'  he's  got  any  spondulics  ter  make  'em  good  if  ye 
bust  yer  helve." 

Joe  and  Charlie  laughed.  They  laughed  so  long  that 
old  Abram  grew  incensed. 

"What  yer  laughin'  at?  I  don't  see  nothin'  ter 
laugh  at." 

"  Laughing  at  ?  To  see  how  fine  you've  got  the 
whole  money  business  down.  You  can  give  points  to 
fellows  that  want  to  borrow  money.  It  isn't  the 
fellow  that  wants  the  money  that  counts.  It's  the 
backer  with  the  spondulics,  Abram." 

"  Ain't  quaderlater'ls  no  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  they're  good.  And  so  are  squares 
and  triangles,  when  you  have  a  backer  with  spondulics. 
You'd  make  a  good  cashier  for  a  bank,  Abram." 

Abram  was  in  a  measure  mollified.  "  Ye  kin  laugh 
an'  poke  fun  at  me  all  ye  want  ter,  but  it's  so.  He's 
goin'  down  ter  St.  Paul.  He'll  git  them  quaderlater'ls. 
He  allus  gits  what  he  goes  fer.  Goin'  down  next  week, 
the  jacks  sez." 

That  put  a  new  phase  on  affairs.  "  I  wonder,"  said 
Joe,  after  Abram  had  left  them,  "  why  Horton  said 
nothing  about  coming  down." 

"  Tis  funny,"  agreed  Charlie.  "  Didn't  you  tell  him 
the  girls  were  there  ?  " 

"  I  did."  He  paused  a  moment.  "  I  offered  that  as 
an  inducement  for  him  to  come  out  with  us."  Sud- 
denly he  slapped  his  knee.  "  And  there,  your  honour, 
the  court  blundered — blundered  badly.  Court  should 
have  reserved  sentence  till  the  prisoner  appeared  at  the 
bar.  Of  course,  Charles,  my  boy,  if  he's  going  to  stick 
like  a  high-minded  lunatic  there  at  that  noble  work  in 


282  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

the  woods  he  won't  want  to  see  Eleanor  Elmore  and 
get  all  harrowed  up  thinking  of  what  he's  losing.  He 
didn't  say  he  was  coming  to  St.  Paul  for  fear  we'd  keep 
her  over.  You  see,  I  said  we  were  going  home  next 
week." 

"Maybe  we  can  stay  over,  anyway,  and  she'll  be 
there  when  he  comes." 

"  Charles,  my  boy,  you've  got  a  long  head,"  said  Joe 
solemnly.  "  Like  enough  your  Aunt  Eleanor  can  get 
him  to  stay  out  of  the  wilderness,  if  she  once  gets  a 
chance  at  him.  But,  Charles,  don't  you  tell  any  one 
that  we've  seen  Brad.  Let  me  manage  that.  You  tell 
all  about  the  hunt.  I'll  tell  about  the  find.  See  ?  " 

The  hunters  were  down  in  time  for  dinner  on 
Wednesday  night.  At  table  Joe  was  quiet,  until 
Charlie  had  told  the  story  of  the  time  in  the  forest, 
when  suddenly  he  broke  in  : 

"  And  say,  your  honour,  he's  not  going  to  run  away 
again.  He's  going  to  stay  right  there  and  do  his  day's 
work.  The  only  thing  that  will  get  him  out  will  be 
quaderlater'ls. " 

"  Joe,  talk  sense,"  said  his  wife.  "  There  are  no  such 
things  as  quadrilaterals,  except  in  the  geometry  books. 
And  who  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  I'm  talking  about  the  Hooter — the  '  mish'nary,'  as 
old  Abram  calls  him.  Old  Abram  was  our  guide.  He 
says  there  are  such  things  as  quaderlater'ls,  and  they're 
things  you  write  on,  and  shove  into  bank  windows  and 
get  money  on,  if  you've  got  a  backer." 

They  all  laughed  at  that.  Then  Eleanor  asked, 
"  Who  is  the  Hooter,  Joe  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  a  lie,  your  honour.  The  Hooter  is 
Prof.  Bradford  Horton,  formerly  of  Prestonbury  and 
now  of  the  big  woods  up  above  Fairthorne." 


TIDINGS  FROM  THE  FOREST  283 

Every  eye  at  the  table  was  fastened  on  Joe.  No  one 
spoke  for  a  moment.  Eleanor  turned  pale  ;  then  the  red 
blood  swept  up  from  her  heart,  suffusing  her  whole 
face.  "  Joe,  don't  joke  with  me,"  she  said.  "  Have 
you  seen  Bradford  Horton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Lennie.  Charles  and  I  have  seen  him,  have 
spent  two  nights  and  the  intervening  day  in  a  lumber 
camp  where  he  is  working  as  a  self-constituted  home 
missionary,  and  he's  coming  down  to  St.  Paul  to  get 
Austin  to  help  him  raise  money." 

"  Did  you  know  that,  Austin  ?  " 

"  No,  Eleanor ;  not  until  Joe  brought  me  a  letter 
from  him." 

"  For  what  does  he  want  money  ?  " 

"  To  build  a  mission  house  in  the  camp  where  I  saw 
him.  Gin  flows  up  there,  rivers  of  it,  and  Bradford 
wants  a  good  bright,  cheery  place  by  which  to  hold  his 
crowd  together  and  keep  them  away  from  the  gin  mill 
Saturday  nights  and  Sundays,  whenever  he  happens  to 
be  in  camp.  There's  two  camps — one  on  the  far  north 
side  of  the  woods.  We  didn't  see  that.  Bradford 
runs  both  of  them,  and  I  tell  you  he  does  it  in  great 
shape." 

Then  Joe  told  the  story  of  the  meeting  of  Saturday 
night,  and  how  easily  and  tactfully  Bradford  handled 
the  lawless  men  of  his  self-appointed  parish.  "  Austin," 
he  ended,  "  I  guess  you'll  have  to  help  him  raise  that 
money." 

"  Lennie,"  said  Joe  later  that  evening,  when  she  had 
regained  part  of  the  poise  that  his  story  had  so  shaken, 
"you'll  stay  till  next  week,  now,  won't  you?  I 
couldn't  persuade  him  to  leave  this  enterprise  he's 
started  and  come  back  to  Prestonbury,  but  maybe  you 
can.  I  wish  you'd  try,  anyway.  No  one  can  get  him 


284:  BKADFOED  HORTON:  MAN 

to  stop  preaching  now  he's  started,  but  civilization 
needs  his  brains." 

"  Perhaps  the  lumberjacks  need  him,  too,  from  all 
you  say,"  she  said,  to  Joe's  total  surprise.  "  Wait,"  as  he 
started  to  interrupt.  "  I  know  that  sounds  as  if  I  didn't 
care.  Nothing  would  make  me  so  happy  as  to  have 
him  back  in  Prestonbury,  and  father  will  never  be  fully 
at  peace  till  he  sees  him  and  makes  amends.  But  I 
can't  feel  it's  right  just  for  my  own  sake  to  ask  him  to 
give  up  a  work  that  needs  him.  Anyway,  he  wouldn't 
— I  know  him  too  well,"  she  added  proudly.  "  Noth- 
ing can  make  him  stop  the  thing  he's  begun  until  he 
finishes  it.  But  as  to  staying,  I  am  willing,  if  you  and 
Alice  wish.  I  should  be  glad  to  see  him  again,"  with  a 
deeper  note  in  her  voice. 

On  the  day  that  the  two  hunters  had  left  Horton's 
camp  he  himself  had  started  northward  to  spend  the 
last  of  the  week  in  the  northern  camp,  and  while  the 
people  in  St.  Paul  were  discussing  him  and  his  work,  he 
was  discussing  it  with  others  in  a  very  practical  way. 

The  two  Englishmen  who  had  been  with  the  Pres- 
tonbury party  to  Duluth  had  turned  their  steps  south- 
ward and  found  their  way  by  midweek  into  this  north- 
ern camp.  The  experience  of  Joe  and  Charlie  was  re- 
peated for  Stuart  and  Sir  Henry,  and  no  two  men  were 
ever  more  astonished.  The  singer  charmed  Sir  Henry, 
and  the  recognition  of  Stuart  and  Horton  was,  of 
course,  instant  and  mutual.  At  the  first  opportunity 
they  sought  each  other  out. 

"  Our  meetings,"  said  Bradford  as  he  greeted  the 
stranger,  "  seem  fated  to  be  in  strange  places  and  at  un- 
expected times— the  Rigi,  Berlin  and  now  the  heart  of 
the  wilderness." 

"  I  hardly  know,"  declared  the  Scotchman,  "  which 


TIDINGS  FROM  THE  FOREST  285 

feeling  is  uppermost  this  time — astonishment  or  admira- 
tion." 

"  You  are  speaking  of  the  work  here,  I  suppose.  I 
am  astonished  myself  at  its  development.  It  is  about 
all  that  counts  with  me  now." 

"  My  astonishment,  I  must  confess,  was  that  you  left 
the  comfort  of  the  professorship  you  said  you  held  for 
such  hardships  as  this  mission  must  entail.  What  led 
you  to  it  ?  " 

As  soon  as  he  said  it,  Stuart  realized  that  his  ques- 
tion must  seem  almost  an  impertinence. 

"Circumstances,"  was  Bradford's  brief  reply,  in  a 
tone  that  forbade  further  inquiry. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  thought  the  other.  "  He's  met  the 
fate  I  would  have  had  I  been  able  to  ask  that  girl  to 
marry  me." 

"  I  met  some  friends  of  yours  recently,"  he  went  on 
after  a  pause.  "  I  came  west  on  the  same  boat  with 
them — a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jickers,  and  Miss  Elmore  and 
her  nephew." 

"  I  knew  they  had  come  west." 

"Singular,  how  unexpectedly  people  meet  in  this 
world.  I  found  Mr.  Jickers  a  very  amusing  character." 

"  He  is  all  that  and  much  more.  He  is  a  genuine 
man." 

"Sir  Henry  thought  Mr.  Jickers  quite  perplexing, 
quite  inexplicable,  in  fact." 

Bradford  smiled.  "  I  can  readily  understand  that," 
he  said.  "  Did  you  hunt  with  them  ?  " 

"  No,  we  separated  at  Duluth.  The  ladies  went  to 
St.  Paul  and  the  men  to  the  south.  "We  are  on  our 
way  to  St.  Paul  now  to  spend  two  days.  Sir  Henry 
wishes  to  see  some  of  your  American  cities.  How 
long  have  you  been  in  here,  Mr.  Horton  ?  " 


286  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  A  year  and  a  half." 

"  Are  you  never  going  out  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never  is  a  long  time.  I  shall  stay  until  I  get 
two  mission  houses  built — one  here  and  one  in  the 
southern  camp.  Then  I  may  go  out  for  a  visit,  but  my 
work  is  here.  I  shall  return  to  it." 

Up  to  this  point  Sir  Henry  had  been  a  listener  only. 
Now  he  spoke  suddenly.  "  I  have  been  greatly  inter- 
ested by  the  service  to  which  we  came.  I  would  gladly 
know  more  about  your  work.  Can  you  take  time  to 
tell  me  of  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Come  to  my  cabin,  and  I  will  tell  you 
the  whole  story." 

In  the  hour  that  followed  Sir  Henry  found  he  had 
met  a  man  of  his  own  stamp — a  man  who  having  seen 
something  that  needed  to  be  done  believed  that  he  could 
do  it,  and  having  begun  was  not  going  to  be  driven 
from  it  until  he  had  succeeded.  For  such  a  man  he  had 
great  admiration.  "  To  see  a  young  man  like  you,"  he 
said  heartily,  "  with  courage  to  attempt  so  hard  a  thing 
as  this  gives  me  a  new  belief  in  the  goodness  of 
humanity." 

The  outcome  of  the  conversation  was  Sir  Henry's 
offer  of  the  money  for  the  building  of  one  of  the  houses. 
Bradford  was  overjoyed.  He  had  hoped,  by  hard  work 
and  eloquent  pleading,  to  secure  the  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars he  needed  from  the  churches  in  St.  Paul ;  now  the 
amount  to  be  so  raised  was  cut  in  half,  and  he  had  to 
offer  as  incentive  to  the  generosity  of  others  the  fact 
that  the  first  giver  was  a  stranger  of  foreign  birth  who 
saw  the  work  and  believed  in  it. 

The  night  when  the  two  Englishmen  reached  St. 
Paul  was  Saturday  of  the  week  when  Joe  and  Charlie 
had  returned  there.  In  the  vestibule  of  Rev.  Mr. 


TIDINGS  FROM  THE  FOREST  287 

Sleighton's  church,  on  Sunday  morning  after  the  serv- 
ice, the  Prestonbury  men  encountered  their  acquaint- 
ances of  the  lakes,  who  had  come  to  hear  the  popular 
young  preacher.  In  the  chance  meeting  Joe  acquired 
information  enough  to  make  him  radiant  with  enthusi- 
asm when  he  met  the  rest  of  the  family  at  dinner. 

"  Your  honour,"  he  began,  though  addressing  no  one 
in  particular,  "  there  are  complications  about  this  Brad- 
ford Horton  business.  While  you  all  went  to  Sunday- 
school  counsel  and  I,  being  unregenerate,  have  been 
making  discoveries.  We  saw  the  big  Englishman  and 
the  Scotchman,  your  honour — the  ones  that  were  going 
hunting.  Well,  they  hunted  in  Brad  Horton's  camp, 
not  the  one  where  we  were  but  the  northern  one,  and 
Brad  told  them  all  about  his  plans  and  the  Scotch  Eng- 
lishman, or  the  English  Scotchman,  told  counsel  that 
the  big  Englishman  was  going  to  pay  for  one  of  those 
mission  houses  and  that  Brad  said  when  he  got  them 
both  built  he  was  going  to  take  a  vacation  and  get  out 
among  people  for  a  rest.  Now  what  do  you  think  of 
that  ?  " 

"  I  think  if  Brad  comes  to  St.  Paul  with  that  story 
he'll  get  the  rest  of  the  money,"  answered  Sleighton. 

"  He  could  get  it  without  coming  to  St.  Paul,"  said 
Eleanor  quietly.  As  they  turned  to  look  at  her,  asking 
how,  they  saw  a  peace  and  gladness  in  her  face  that 
had  not  been  there  since  Joe's  return  early  in  the  week. 
Since  then  her  struggle  had  been  unremitting,  between 
the  longing  to  use  her  influence  to  persuade  Bradford 
to  give  up  his  work  and  come  home,  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  such  a  course  was  both  selfish  and  untrue  to 
his  highest  good.  Now  it  seemed  that  all  was  to  work 
out  so  that  the  sacrifice  she  was  striving  so  painfully  to 
make  would  not  be  asked  of  her. 


288  BKADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

"  How  ? "  she  answered  the  queries  of  the  others. 
"  Why,  daddy  will  give  the  money  the  minute  I  tell 
him.  I'll  telegraph  for  it !  "  There  was  a  glad  ring 
in  her  voice.  "  If  he  gets  the  houses  built  this  winter, 
he  can  come  out  in  the  spring  for  his  vacation,  and 
daddy  can  see  him,  and  be  happy  again." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  ever  think  of  yourself,  do  you  ?  " 
asked  Lucy  as  they  left  the  dining-room. 

"  Myself  ?  Oh,  Lucy,  that's  too  deep  !  You  know, 
don't  you  ?  "  Her  face  was  all  aglow  with  happiness 
in  anticipation  of  the  meeting  soon  to  come  that  was 
to  be  unmarred  by  thoughts  of  renunciation. 

Next  morning  early  there  came  a  telegram  from 
Ansley  Jickers  to  Eleanor,  saying,  "  Your  father  is 
very  ill.  Hasten  home." 


XXX 
THE  APPEAL  OF  THE  CAMP 


"T"  TELLO,  Brad!" 

I  -  1      «  How  are  you,  A.  S.  ?  " 

JL  JL  "  Fine  I  Weather  good,  plenty  to  eat,  con- 
science quiet.  Glad  to  see  you  ;  mighty  glad."  Not  a 
change  was  apparent  in  the  manner  of  the  two  men 
who  had  not  seen  each  other  for  five  years.  Sleighton 
looked  prosperous  ;  Horton  was  not  so  well  dressed  as 
formerly,  but  the  look  of  victorious  accomplishment  on 
his  bronze  face  was  fine  to  see. 

"  God  has  led  me  to  a  wonderful  work,  A.  S.,"  he 
said,  after  the  first  greetings  were  over  and  the  visitor 
had  settled  down  in  one  of  the  minister's  leather  study 
chairs. 

"  I  knew  He  would,"  said  Sleighton.  "  But,  Brad,  I 
never  supposed  it  was  in  you  to  do  what  you're  doing, 
I  must  admit  that.  If  I  had,  I'd  have  put  two  and  two 
together  long  ago." 

"  Two  and  two  ?     What  two  and  two  ?  " 

"  Lumberjacks  and  Brad  Horton." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"  You  weren't  so  dumb  in  the  old  days.  I've  been 
hearing  for  six  months  of  a  missionary  up  in  the  forest 
above  Fairthorne  who  was  a  great  gospel  singer  and  a 
splendid  worker  among  the  lumbermen.  No  one  ever 
gave  me  his  name,  and  I  couldn't  place  any  such  man. 

289 


290  BBADFOKD  HORTON :  KAN 

And  all  the  while  it  was  you.  What  sent  you  up 
there?" 

"  You." 

"  Never  !    I've  never  done  so  good  a  thing." 

"  Yes,  you  did.  Kemember  how  I  asked  you  once 
all  about  Fairthorne,  where  it  was  and  how  to  get  there 
and  how  far  off  the  woods  were  ?  " 

Sleighton  recalled  it. 

"  I  didn't  mean  anything  then,  in  asking,  but  when 
circumstances  made  it  necessary  for  me  to  leave  Pres- 
tonbury  and  go  where  no  one  could  find  me,  what  you 
had  said  came  back  to  me.  I  went  in  by  way  of 
Duluth.  I  had  no  board  back  of  me,  and  the  reason 
you  couldn't  find  out  the  name  of  the  man  you  heard 
of  was  because  I  never  gave  any.  For  a  year  and  a 
half  now  I've  had  no  name  but  the  '  mish'nary '  and 
'  the  Hooter.'  So  you  see,  A.  S.,  you  did  send  me  into 
the  woods,  you  and  God.  I  was  ready,"  he  added,  "  to 
take  you  into  my  confidence  when  J.  J.  found  me.  I 
wanted  to  come  down  here  after  money,  as  I  wrote 
you,  and  I  knew  you'd  keep  my  secret.  Now,  of 
course,  there's  no  need  of  secrecy." 

It  was  Saturday  evening.  Bradford  had  arrived 
that  afternoon,  several  days  after  the  departure  of  the 
Prestonbury  party.  Little  by  little,  as  they  sat  to- 
gether far  past  midnight,  Horton  told  his  friend  the 
story  of  the  past  five  years. 

"  I  don't  blame  Mr.  Elmore,"  he  ended.  "  He  was 
only  God's  instrument  to  reveal  me  to  myself.  Instead 
of  getting  out  into  real  work,  for  men,  I  had  buried  my 
real  power  in  a  Greek  dictionary  and  was  playing  fast 
and  loose  with  myself.  The  only  thing  really  before 
me  was  the  vision  of  a  girl,  though  I  tried  to  make 
myself  believe  it  wasn't.  I  dreamed,  hoped — oh,  well, 


THE  APPEAL  OF  THE  CAMP  291 

Austin,  there's  no  use  going  into  it  all,  but  that  night 
he  refused  my  request  so  brutally  I  was  almost  heart- 
broken. I  loved  Antigone,  A.  S. ;  I  always  shall.  But 
in  my  soul,  that  night,  underneath  all  the  rage  and 
bitterness,  I  heard  God's  voice  as  plainly  as  ever 
prophet  heard  it,  saying,  'Now,  will  you  go  do  the 
work  to  which  I  have  called  you  ? ' 

"  I  had  an  awful  night.  It  was  days  before  I  could 
surrender  and  say  I'd  go.  I  resolved  then  that  as  soon 
as  I'd  paid  off  the  mortgage  I'd  hide  myself  away  in 
some  place  where  I  could  be  unknown  and  at  the  same 
time  serve  God  and  men.  Then  when  the  storm  came, 
and  the  rescue,  I  had  the  knowledge  to  strengthen  me 
that  Eleanor  loved  me.  She  always  will,  Austin.  But 
to  answer  the  call  of  God  means  separation  for  her  and 
me,  even  now  when  all  other  obstacles  are  removed. 
She  will  go  her  way  and  I  mine,  and  my  way  is  plainly 
here  at  work.  I  will  not  be  a  traitor  to  God's  call 
again,  not  even  for  her  sake.  And  it  is  much  to  know 
she  loves  me — we  are  wedded  already  in  soul." 

There  was  dead  silence  for  a  tune,  then  Sleighton 
said,  emotion  in  his  voice,  "  You  are  a  strong  man, 
Bradford  Horton.  For  strong  men  God  has  great  use 
and  great  reward." 

Then,  with  a  quick  turn  of  subject  to  relieve  the 
overwrought  feelings  of  both  by  a  return  to  practical 
matters,  he  fell  to  laying  plans  for  the  services  of  the 
morrow. 

The  Sunday  when  Bradford  Horton  told  of  his  work 
in  the  camp  of  the  Great  Northern  Lumber  Company 
was  as  fair  a  November  day  as  ever  shone  crisp  and  cold 
upon  the  world.  From  the  pulpit  the  missionary 
surveyed  his  audience,  thinking,  "What  will  such  a 
people  care  for  my  stories  of  the  jacks,  of  Poker  Bill, 


292  BKADFORD  HOBTON :  MAN 

of  Jimmie  the  Snipe  ?  Nothing,  probably ;  but  HI 
tell  them  all  the  same.  The  duty  is  mine,  the  cause  is 
God's." 

He  had  not  counted  on  his  own  power,  however ;  in 
fact,  he  was  hardly  aware  of  it.  In  simple  words  he 
narrated  the  history  of  the  year  and  a  half  he  had  spent 
as  a  part  of  the  life  of  these  men.  He  told  of  their 
separation  from  the  outside  world,  of  their  hardships, 
of  their  rough,  wild,  reckless  ways  ;  told  of  their  gam- 
bling and  drunkenness,  of  their  profanity  and  utter 
disregard  of  the  Sabbath,  of  their  absolute  lack  of  fear 
of  God,  man  or  devil ;  told  how  little  by  little  they 
were  being  won  to  sobriety  and  an  outward  semblance 
of  respect  for  holy  things. 

"  That  southern  camp,"  he  said  in  closing,  "  will  in 
ten  years  be  a  city.  The  railway  from  Duluth  to  Fair- 
thorne  will  pass  through  both  the  northern  and  southern 
camps  within  the  next  year  and  a  half.  In  that  whole 
vast  region  I  am  the  only  minister.  Settlers  are  al- 
ready coming  in  and  will  need  religious  influences. 
We  must  have  two  buildings  for  mission  work,  one  for 
each  camp,  and  must  have  them  at  once.  One  is 
promised  as  soon  as  I  can  obtain  the  money  for  the 
other.  An  Englishman  who  passed  through  the  camp 
two  weeks  ago  saw  the  work  and  was  so  impressed  by 
the  reality  of  our  needs  that  he  pledged  himself  to  give 
five  thousand  dollars  for  this  purpose.  "Will  you  give 
the  other  ?  Here  is  the  field  in  your  own  state.  A 
foreigner  will  give  half  the  money  for  the  work.  Will 
you  meet  him  ?  In  the  language  of  Poker  Bill,  '  that 
Englishman  calls  you.'  Will  you  show  him  that  you 
also  hold  a  full  hand  ?  " 

As  he  took  his  seat,  Sleighton  rose.  "  I  will  answer 
that  last  question,"  he  said.  "  I  will  answer,  No,  for 


THE  APPEAL  OF  THE  CAMP  293 

that  purpose  this  church  \vill  not  give  one  dollar."  Brad- 
ford started,  but  was  reassured  as  his  friend  went  on, 
"  I  have  the  promise  of  the  money  for  the  second  house 
in  my  hand."  He  opened  a  telegram,  and  read,  " '  Tell 
Bradford  Horton  that  Prestonbury  will  build  the  second 
mission  house.' r 

Bradford  was  on  his  feet,  but  the  minister  stopped 
him  with  a  word  in  an  undertone. 

"The  houses  will  be  built  this  winter,"  Sleighton 
went  on,  still  addressing  the  people.  "  But  more  than 
mere  houses  is  needed.  They  should  each  have  a 
preacher.  My  friend  should  no  longer  bear  the  whole 
burden.  He  must  be  our  missionary  superintendent. 
Such  an  arrangement  will  require  twenty-four  hun- 
dred dollars  yearly;  six  hundred  for  each  minister, 
twelve  hundred  for  Mr.  Horton.  That  is  the  responsi- 
bility which  I  ask  you  this  morning  to  assume.  Will 
you  ?  " 

A  man  in  the  congregation  was  already  on  his  feet. 
"  Yes,"  he  cried.  "  I  will  be  responsible  for  that  sum. 
Any  one  who  wants  to  help  may  report  to  the  First 
National  Bank."  And  before  he  could  take  his  seat, 
involuntarily  the  congregation  had  risen  in  one  body 
and  were  singing  for  the  second  time  during  that  serv- 
ice, "  Praise  God  from  Whom  All  Blessings  Flow ! " 
And  clear  and  strong  above  the  voices  of  the  people 
rose  that  of  Bradford  Horton. 

"  A.  S.,"  said  the  missionary,  when  at  last  the  stream 
of  people  who  wished  to  meet  him  had  flowed  out  at 
the  church  door  and  the  two  were  walking  home  to- 
gether, "  had  you  received  that  message  when  we  were 
talking  last  night  ?  " 

"  Sure ! " 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  " 


294  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

"I  wanted  to  do  better  than  we  could  if  you'd 
known.  I  wanted  it  all  to  work  out  as  it  did  this 
morning.  I  knew  my  crowd.  Now,  then,  can  you  get 
those  houses  done  by  June,  think  you  ?  " 

"I'll  have  to  let  Sir  Henry  know  the  first  thing." 

"  Well,  write  him  to-night.  Then  hustle  back  to  the 
woods  and  get  to  work,  and  be  ready  to  come  out  for  a 
rest  in  June.  I'm  going  on  to  Prestonbury  in  May,  to 
commencement,  and  I'll  find  two  good  fellows  to  put 
on  the  job  and  take  your  place." 

"  I  don't  specially  want  a  vacation  after  such  an  in- 
spiration as  I've  had  to-day." 

"  You'll  want  it,  all  right.  The  winter's  long  and 
hard  out  here,  and  it's  no  joke  building  houses  in  the 
snow.  Besides,  they  want  you  in  Prestonbury.  The 
kindest  thing  you  can  do  for  Eleanor  Elmore  is  to  let 
her  father  see  you  and  make  his  peace." 

"  I  know,"  said  Bradford,  with  reserve.  "  Yes,  I 
must  go  East  for  that." 

"  See  here,  Brad ! "  said  Sleighton  earnestly.  They 
had  reached  home  and  Lucy  was  in  the  hall  to  greet 
them.  "  Give  up  that  nonsense  about  never  marrying. 
That  girl  will  go  with  you  to  China,  if  you'll  ask  her." 

"  Would  that  be  the  way  to  prove  I  love  her  ?  "  said 
Bradford  stubbornly  ;  "  to  ask  her  to  share  such  hard- 
ships as  you've  just  been  talking  about — long,  cold 
winters,  and  isolation,  and  loneliness?  It's  not  my 
way.  I  love  her  too  well  for  that.  I  want  to  see  her 
again,  yes ;  but  it  must  be  the  last  time." 

Lucy  had  been  quiet,  listening  without  comment. 
Now  she  spoke.  "You  don't  know  Eleanor,  Brad- 
ford," she  said  simply. 


XXXI 
"MY  SON!    MY  SON!" 

MR.  ELMORE,  as  the  telegram  to  his  daughter 
had  said,  was  indeed  very  ill ;  pneumonia  the 
doctor  had  called  it.  But  as  Eleanor  entered 
his  room,  after  her  hurried  journey  East,  his  face  lighted 
to  a  smile.  Her  presence  seemed  to  give  new  hope  to 
the  entire  household,  and  the  sick  man,  satisfied  now 
that  his  daughter  had  reached  home  before  his  life  spark 
had  gone  out,  experienced  at  once  a  change  for  the  bet- 
ter as  a  result  of  the  satisfaction.  The  physician  was 
surprised  next  morning,  still  more  surprised  the  follow- 
ing one,  and  on  the  third  day  he  said  to  Eleanor, 
"  You  are  a  better  doctor  than  I.  Your  father  will 
recover,  I  think." 

By  the  end  of  the  week  the  invalid  was  able  to 
talk  a  little.  "  Dearie,"  he  said  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing, "has  Bradford  been  found?  I  dreamed  he  was 
coming  back  to  Preston  bury." 

"  Yes,  father,"  she  answered.  "  Joe  and  Charlie 
happened  upon  him  in  the  forest  where  they  went  to 
hunt." 

"  And  he's  here  ?  They  brought  him  home  ?  "  came 
the  eager  questions. 

"  No,  dear.  He  couldn't  come  just  now.  He's  made 
his  home  up  there  in  the  Minnesota  lumber  camps 
among  the  lumbermen.  He's  a  missionary  there." 

"  His  home  ?  "  There  was  a  note  of  disappointment 
in  the  feeble  voice.  "  Is  he  married,  then,  Lennie  ?  " 

295 


296  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

"  No,  dear.  He's  all  alone,  except  for  the  men.  He's 
had  a  wonderful  experience  and  done  a  wonderful  work. 
He's  trying  now  to  build  two  mission  churches — one 
in  each  of  the  camps  where  he  works.  He  has  the 
money  for  one  ;  that  Englishman  I  wrote  you  was  with 
Malcolm  Stuart  gave  it.  I  thought  maybe  you'd  want 
to  give  the  money  for  the  other.  "Wouldn't  you  like 
to  ?  If  you  would  I'll  send  Austin  a  telegram." 

"  Yes,  Lennie ;  by  all  means."  The  weak  voice  had 
grown  almost  strong  with  its  pleasure.  "  I'd  have  given 
them  both  if  I'd  known.  This  will  help,  don't  you 
think  so,"  he  added  wistfully,  "  towards  making  things 
right  with  Bradford  ?  " 

"  Surely,  daddy  dear.  Things  will  all  come  right  by 
and  by.  The  crooked  places  are  being  made  straight, 
the  rough  places  plain." 

She  spoke  with  a  confidence  to  which  she  had  to  use 
all  her  will  power  to  cling.  Reconciliation  was  sure  to 
come  between  her  father  and  Bradford,  yes  ;  but  how 
would  that  smooth  the  roughness  of  her  life,  while 
Bradford's  work  kept  him  in  the  wilderness,  which  she 
knew  he  would  not  ask  her  to  share  ?  None  the  less, 
there  was  real  happiness  for  her  in  sending  the  tele- 
gram which  Sleighton  read  from  his  pulpit  that  Sunday. 

From  the  hour  of  that  conversation  Mr.  Elrnore's  re- 
covery was  rapid.  Before  Christmas  came  he  was  back 
in  his  accustomed  place  in  home  and  business,  and  one 
of  his  first  acts  was  to  forward  to  Bradford  the  promised 
sum.  The  letter  that  came  in  acknowledgment  was 
prompt  and  satisfactory : 

"DEAR  MR.  ELMORE: 

"  I  have  just  received  through  Mr.  Sleighton  the 
five  thousand  dollars  which  you  so  generously  sent  to 
aid  in  my  building  enterprise.  I  shall  be  able  now  to 


« MY  SON !    MY  SON ! "  297 

finish  speedily  work  which  is  of  great  importance.  I 
would  like  to  add  that  Joe  Jickers,  whom  I  saw  here 
in  the  autumn,  informed  me  that  you  had  learned  the 
truth  concerning  my  father  and  myself,  and  much  as  I 
value  the  gift  of  money  for  my  work,  I  value  it  far 
more  highly  as  evidence  of  your  renewed  belief  in  me. 
"  Most  sincerely  yours, 

"BRADFORD  HORTON." 

It  was  not  until  spring  that  any  further  word  came 
directly  to  Bradford  Horton  from  Prestonbury.  Then 
it  came  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  from  Charles  Elmore, 
asking  him  to  officiate  at  that  young  man's  marriage 
to  Helen  Tappan.  Neither  of  them,  it  seemed,  would 
allow  themselves  to  be  married  by  any  one  else.  The 
letter  found  Horton  just  at  a  time  when  he  could  clearly 
see  the  end  of  his  task,  and  when  he  knew  that  in  kind- 
ness to  both  Eleanor  and  her  father  he  must  visit  Pres- 
tonbury at  least  long  enough  for  the  interview  Mr. 
Elmore  so  much  desired.  That  it  meant  for  him  a 
struggle  he  knew,  even  when  he  wrote  his  acceptance 
of  Charlie's  invitation.  "  I  wonder,"  he  thought  as  he 
mailed  it,  "  if  I  am  strong  enough  to  look  into  those 
eyes  again  and  keep  the  resolution  I  have  made." 

In  the  meantime,  Eleanor  received  a  long  and  enter- 
taining letter  from  Lucy  Sleighton,  which  included 
among  its  other  news  the  statement  of  Bradford's  in- 
tention to  come  East  at  the  time  of  the  wedding. 
This  letter  arrived  even  before  Charles  received  the  re- 
ply to  his  and  fully  set  at  rest  the  fear  his  aunt  had  felt 
lest  Bradford  Horton  after  all  would  not  feel  that  he 
could  leave  his  work  as  yet.  Hardly  daring  to  let  her- 
self hope  for  what  she  longed  for,  she  had  discouraged 
Charlie  from  writing.  "  He'll  never  come  away  for  so 
trivial  a  thing  as  a  wedding,"  she  said,  upon  which 


298  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

Charlie  had  indignantly  denied  that  his  wedding  was  a 
triviality. 

Lucy's  letter  quieted  the  doubts  that  the  winter 
without  direct  word  from  the  Minnesota  camps  had 
aroused.  "  Now,  Eleanor  Elmore,"  her  friend  wrote 
at  its  end,  "  don't  you  dare  let  him  come  back  here 
without  you.  He  says  he  won't  ask  you  to  share  such 
hardships,  so  you'll  have  to  make  him,  that's  all.  We 
told  him  he  didn't  know  you,  if  he  thought  you'd  mind, 
but  you  know  how  he  is  when  he  makes  up  his  mind." 

"  The  only  trouble  would  be  about  leaving  father," 
Eleanor  said  when  she  read  the  letter  to  Caroline.  "  I 
read  him  what  Lucy  says,  and  he  said  I  should  go  with 
Bradford  if  he  asks  me.  But,  Carrie,  he'll  never  ask 
me." 

"  He  may  change  his  mind,"  said  her  sister-in-law. 
"  Father  would  miss  you  sadly,  Eleanor." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  him  to  change  his  mind  ? " 
challenged  Eleanor.  "  But,"  with  the  inconsistency  of 
rebounding  hope,  "  if  he  does,  father  says  he  don't  care 
how  much  he  might  miss  me ;  he  doesn't  want  to  make 
us  suffer  any  more." 

She  did  not  think  to  tell  Caroline  not  to  repeat 
the  little  confidence.  Caroline  told  her  husband,  and 
through  him  the  statement  Mr.  Elmore  had  made  came 
finally  to  the  ears  of  Joe  Jickers,  where  it  stopped. 

So  at  last  June  came.  Before  its  last  week  Brad- 
ford Horton  was  on  his  way  eastward.  Each  day  of 
the  long  journey  found  him  happier  than  the  day  be- 
fore, even  though  each  day  the  undercurrent  of  his 
resolutions  flowed  more  turbulently.  "  I  must  not,  no, 
I  must  not !  "  he  repeated  firmly ;  then,  with  a  waver- 
ing thought  that  never  finished  itself,  "  and  yet " 

he  would  add. 


"MY  SON!    MY  SON!"  200 

The  home  built  by  Barney  O'Toole  after  his  marriage 
to  Mary  Tappan,  two  years  before,  was  two  miles  away 
from  the  house  on  Sunset  Hill.  Horton  was  to  stay 
with  the  O'Tooles  while  he  remained  in  Prestonbury, 
and  when  the  station  carriage  set  him  down  before  their 
door,  just  at  nightfall,  three  days  before  the  wedding, 
everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  honoured  guest. 

Barney  came  bounding  out  like  a  boy.  "  Oh,  Brad, 
this  is  great !  I  was  never  so  glad  to  see  you  before  in 
all  my  life." 

"  Hello,  Barney ! "  Bradford  wrung  his  hand.  "  Cash 
balance  all  right  to-day  ?  " 

"  Not  short  a  dollar.     How  are  you  ?  " 

"  Tired  ;  happy  ;  hungry  as  a  bear." 

"  "Well,  we'll  soon  fix  that.  Here's  Mary,"  as  the 
Miss  Tappan  of  the  old  days  came  forward  to  welcome 
him.  "  Charlie  and  Helen  are  here  for  dinner,  and  Joe 
and  Alice  are  coming  this  evening.  Joe  said  he  wanted 
to  be  sure  that  the  wrong  malefactor  had  not  been  ex- 
tradited." 

"  Same  old  Joe,  isn't  he  ?  "  Horton  laughed.  "  I 
guess  he'll  die  joking." 

On  the  porch  after  dinner,  in  answer  to  O'Toole's 
offer  of  a  cigar,  Bradford  produced  a  well-worn  pipe. 
"  I'll  burn  this  instead,  thank  you,  Barney,"  he  said. 
"  I  formed  this  friendship  in  the  lumber  camps,  and 
many  a  night  my  pipe  has  kept  me  from  being  blue." 
He  was  the  picture  of  embodied  comfort  when  the  lit- 
tle druggist  and  his  wife  arrived. 

The  breezes  always  began  to  blow  in  the  vicinity  of 
Joe  Jickers.  He  was  a  veritable  son  of  ^Eolus. 
"  Hello,  Hooter,"  was  his  salutation  in  the  old  way. 
"  But  this  time  we  shan't  have  to  sing,  '  "Where  Is  My 
Wandering  Boy  To-night  ? '  Nary  !  Court  rtcog- 


300  BRADFORD  HORTON  :  MAN 

nizes  his  long  lost  brother.  How's  Poker  Bill, 
Hooter  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barney  made  answer  instead  of  Horton.  "  Stop 
your  nonsense,  Joe.  The  professor  has  promised  to 
sing  for  us,  and  we're  going  in  to  the  piano,  now  you've 
come." 

"  All  right,  counsel.  Court  sustains  the  'objection. 
But  court  makes  an  order  that  Brad  has  to  tell  about 
his  first  song  in  camp ;  about  being  a  pilgrim  and  a 
stranger,  and  about  why  Poker  Bill  called  him  '  the 
Hooter,'  and  then  he's  to  sing  us  all  about  heaven  be- 
ing his  home,  and  let  us  see  if  Bill  was  right." 

Bradford  laughed,  as  they  all  did,  but  before  he  had 
told  the  story  through  they  were  serious  enough  to  be 
ready  for  his  singing  of  the  simple  hymn  which  has 
comforted  so  many  weary  souls  and  which  had  won  for 
him  his  place  in  the  lumber  camps. 

After  that  he  stayed  at  the  piano  for  half  an  hour, 
passing  without  interruption  from  song  to  song,  as  if 
the  singing  were  the  outlet  of  an  overcharged  heart. 
Pausing  finally,  "  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  O'Toole,"  he  said, 
"  but  a  parlour,  a  piano  and  people  of  your  sort  is  a 
combination  that  has  been  denied  me  so  long  that  I  was 
heart-hungry  and,  I  fear,  selfish." 

"  Counsel,"  said  the  druggist  solemnly,  "  you  have 
vindicated  your  right  to  be  called  the  Hooter." 

Mr.  Elmore  called  next  morning  to  take  the  guest  for 
a  drive.  The  meeting  of  the  two  men  was  characteris- 
tic ;  the  younger  was  undemonstrative,  the  older  cour- 
teous. After  Driving  for  a  while  about  the  familiar 
streets  of  the  beautiful  town,  they  turned  finally  into 
Mount  Logan  Avenue,  when  suddenly  Mr.  Elmore's 
purpose  became  evident  to  his  hitherto  almost  silent 
companion.  The  carriage  stopped  near  the  seques- 


"  MY  SON !    MY  SON ! "  301 

tered  nook  over  in  the  shadows  of  the  cemetery,  and 
together  they  walked  to  the  spot  now  sacred  to  them 
both,  where  they  stood  with  uncovered  heads  for  a 
time,  still  silent.  At  last,  very  gently,  the  old  man 
spoke. 

"  Bradford,"  he  said,  "  I  have  chosen  this  place  in 
which  to  make  such  atonement  as  I  can  for  my  sin. 
Your  poor  father's  body  lies  here  by  the  side  of  your 
mother,  my  foster  sister,  whom  I  dearly  loved.  They 
cannot  hear  me  now,  but  God  can,  and  you.  In  bit- 
terness of  soul  you  said  once  that  you  would  never 
speak  to  me  again,  and  for  years,  until  to-day,  you 
have  kept  your  promise.  I  cannot  blame  you.  But  I 
ask  you  now,  will  you  forgive  me  ?  Forgiveness  will 
not  undo  the  past,  and  words  and  sorrow  are  all  that 
here  I  can  offer  you.  All  that  I  ever  said  to  you  in 
harshness  I  wish  to  unsay.  Bradford,  will  you  forgive 
me?" 

The  young  man's  extended  hand  was  his  first  answer, 
and  with  strong  hand-clasp  the  two  so  long  sundered 
by  misunderstanding  faced  each  other  in  silence  for  a 
moment.  Then  a  soft,  strong  voice  said,  "  Forgive  us 
our  debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors,  and  lead  us  not 
into  temptation  but  deliver  us  from  evil." 

Then,  as  Bradford's  voice  failed  him  and  broke,  the 
old  man  threw  his  arm  around  the  young  man's  neck. 
"  My  son  !  "  he  cried.  "  My  son ! "  The  implication  of 
the  words  was  a  thought  that  even  in  the  moment  of 
high-pitched  emotion  Bradford  resolutely  put  away 
from  him.  Not  even  Mr.  Elmore's  wish  could  make  his 
path  different  from  that  he  had  resolved  upon. 

The  words  that  came  as  they  walked  back  to  the 
carriage  were  a  revelation  to  Bradford  Horton  that 
flooded  the  past  unhappy  years  with  light.  "You 


302  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

never  knew,"  said  Mr.  Elmore,  "  that  I  was  once  en- 
gaged to  your  adopted  mother  when  she  was  Rosalie 
Morwell.  The  affair  was  a  boy's  and  girl's  first  love, 
and  I  suppose  it  was  largely  my  fault  that  it  was  broken, 
and  she  had  resented  that  all  the  years.  Your  first  call 
on  me  brought  all  the  past  freshly  to  mind,  and  that 
dreadful  letter  of  hers  was  written  mostly  to  humiliate 
me,  and  in  answer  to  a  note  I  wrote  that  night  you 
called,  hoping  to  reconcile  you  and  her  to  each  other. 
Ah,  well ! "  he  sighed,  as  they  started  for  the  drive 
back  into  town,  "  the  outcome  of  it  has  been  almost  ten 
years  of  sorrow  for  you  ;  but  through  it  all  you  have 
been  noble,  Bradford,  far  nobler  than  I  ever  was  in  my 
best  moments." 

Stopping  at  the  bank,  where  Bradford  wanted  to  see 
his  old  haunts,  he  found  a  note  which  had  come  to 
Barney.  Bradford  read  the  note  and  tossed  it  to 
O'Toole.  "  Mrs.  Elmore  wants  me  to  dine  to-night." 

"  Good  enough  !  " 

"Can't  be  done,"  said  Bradford  briefly.  "There's 
the  wedding  rehearsal  to-night." 

"  That's  not  till  8  :  30.  Besides,  some  of  them  will  be 
going  to  the  church,  too.  You'd  better  go ;  they're 
anxious  to  see  you." 

Hardly  convinced  that  he  would  do  well  to  accept, 
Horton  left  the  bank  and  wandered  over  to  the  semi- 
nary, which  he  found  closed  and  locked.  Unable  to 
seek  out  his  old  room,  he  sat  down  on  the  steps  where 
he  had  so  often  sat  with  Sleighton,  and  the  old  day- 
dreams came  back  to  him.  Rousing  himself  suddenly 
with  determination  from  his  contemplation  of  the  old 
vision  of  a  graceful  girl  with  lustrous  eyes,  he  shook 
himself  into  active  purpose. 

"  This  won't  do,  Brad,"  he  said  to  himself.     "  You're 


"MY  SON!    MY  SON!"  303 

getting  ready  to  have  every  pin  on  your  alley  go  down 
at  the  first  bowl  Come  out  of  it !  You'll  have  to  see 
her  sooner  or  later  and  you  might  as  well  go  now  and 
get  it  over." 

So  when  the  Elmore  carriage  called  at  Barney's  that 
evening  for  Bradford,  he  was  ready  in  the  shabby  best 
suit  which  was  all  he  had  for  occasions  great  and  small. 

If  a  memory  visited  him  on  that  two-mile  drive  of 
the  last  time  he  had  entered  the  house  on  Sunset  Hill, 
the  grim  outline  of  it  was  erased  by  the  welcome  he  re- 
ceived from  the  waiting  family.  Truly,  things  had 
changed.  Eleanor,  at  the  library  door,  feeling  shyly 
that  she  must  wait  for  him  to  make  the  advance,  if  he 
ever  should,  lost,  in  the  sudden  consciousness  of  his 
presence,  all  sense  of  reserve,  all  thought  of  everything 
except  that  he  was  there  at  last  and  that  she  loved  him, 
and  came  to  him  with  both  hands  out,  her  transfigured 
face  upturned  to  meet  his  kiss. 

There  came  no  stinging  rebuke  from  her  father,  as 
Bradford  stooped  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  Instead, 
his  own  soul  was  on  fire,  and  a  thrill  went  through 
him  that  made  him  first  hot,  then  cold.  Only  by  sum- 
moning every  power  in  his  soul  that  made  for  self- 
possession  could  he  keep  from  the  surrender  of  every 
one  of  his  heroic  resolutions,  and  putting  her  gently 
from  him  turned  to  accept  with  heartiness  Mrs.  El- 
more's  kindly  greeting. 

If  Eleanor,  at  once  overjoyed  and  trembling  with 
suspense  lest  what  she  feared  might  be  true  and  he 
should  go  away  without  a  word,  took  little  share  in 
entertaining  the  guest,  there  was  no  lack  of  conversa- 
tion. Skillfully  Mr.  Elmore  led  the  talk  that  en- 
livened the  dinner,  drawing  from  Bradford  details 
none  of  them  had  known  about  his  beginnings  in  Pres- 


304  BRADFORD  HORTON:  MAN 

tonbury — lamp  story  and  all,  even  to  the  mention  of 
the  quarter  of  an  hour  that  he  had  spent  upon  the  car- 
riage stone  before  their  house  on  that  first  day  of  his 
arrival.  The  reminiscent  chat  ran  on  through  dinner 
and  back  into  the  library,  where  Mr.  Elmore  said  at 
last : 

"Bradford,  when  this  wedding  is  over,  your  visit 
with  our  cashier  will  be  done,  and  we  all  want  you 
here  for  our  guest  for  as  long  as  you  will  stay.  This, 
is  your  home  now  and  always,  I  want  you  to  be  sure." 

Bradford  braced  his  will  for  the  effort  he  had  known 
would  come.  "  You  can  never  understand,"  he  said, 
with  the  cool  indifference  which  he  had  found  was  his 
only  means  of  defense  against  his  own  emotions,  "  how 
much  I  appreciate  this  invitation,  nor  how  hard  it  is  for 
me  to  decline  it."  Eleanor's  face  turned  white ;  he 
saw  it,  saw  her  hands  pressed  together,  but  he  went 
steadily  on.  "  I  leave  the  morning  after  the  wedding 
for  Glencoe.  I  haven't  seen  my  sister  for  five  years, 
and  I've  promised  her  to  be  there  that  night." 

"  "What  ? "  said  Mr.  Elmore  disappointedly.  His 
back  was  towards  his  daughter,  where  she  sat,  half  in 
shadow.  "  Is  this  all  the  visit  you  will  give  us,  just 
this  one  night  at  dinner  ?  " 

From  behind  him  there  came  an  echo  in  a  shaking 

voice.  "  Is  this "  The  father  turned  and  saw  his 

daughter's  face.  As  the  catch  came  in  her  question  he 
broke  in,  "  But  you've  got  to  see  the  '  Shelter,'  Lennie's 
house  up  at  Jake's,  you  know.  How  long  are  you  to 
be  in  Glencoe  ?  " 

"  All  through  July,  I  expect.  I  want  to  tramp  the 
old  hills  once  more  where  I  used  to  go  in  my  boyhood." 
He  tried  to  make  his  voice  ring  as  if  that  were  really 
his  great  desire,  but  he  could  feel  the  lack  of  sincerity 


'"MY  SON!    MY  SON!"  S05 

in  his  own  words  as  he  hurried  on,  "  Then  I  must  turn 
back  westward  to  the  camps,  to  my  jacks,  to  the  work 
to  which  God  has  called  me." 

There  was  conviction  in  the  last  words,  but  Mr. 
Elmore  continued  his  plea.  "  But  stop  on  your  way 
"West,  my  boy.  Don't  go  without  a  sight  of  the 
'  Shelter.'  Let  us  know  what  day  you're  coming  and 
the  Antigone  will  be  at  the  foot  of  the  lake,  and  you 
can  row  up  to  the  house." 

The  final  "  No  "  for  which  he  had  steeled  himself  was 
on  his  lips  when  its  utterance  was  checked.  Eleanor 
had  risen  and  come  from  shadow  out  into  the  full  light 
of  the  lamps.  From  the  wistful  pleading  of  her 
lustrous  eyes  there  flashed  to  his  brain  a  new  idea. 
Suddenly  he  saw  that  on  the  altar  where  he  desired  to 
sacrifice  himself  for  her  he  was  offering  up  instead  the 
heart  of  the  woman  who,  he  saw  in  this  moment  of  il- 
lumination, would  count  nothing  a  sacrifice,  so  that 
they  might  be  together.  Her  voice  joined  the  pleading 
of  her  eyes,  and  he  heard  her  say,  in  simple  repetition  of 
her  father's  words,  but  with  meaning  far  more  profound, 
"  Won't  you  come,  Bradford  ?  Won't  you,  please  ?  " 

After  five  seconds,  that  seemed  to  Bradford  Horton 
like  an  eternity,  so  completely  did  his  purpose  change 
within  their  span,  he  found  voice  to  speak. 

"  Yes,  Eleanor,"  he  said.  "  I  will  stop  at  the  '  Shel- 
ter.' I  think  we  both  have  suffered  long  enough."  He 
turned  to  Mr.  Elmore.  "  At  the  grave  of  my  father 
and  mother  this  morning  you  called  me  son.  Did  your 
words  mean  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Elmore,  his  face  alight. 
Mrs.  Elmore  was  crying  quietly.  "  I  built  the  '  Shelter' 
for  you  and  Lennie." 

She  had  slipped  into  the  circle  of  his  arm  as  to  the 


306  BRADFORD  HORTON :  MAN 

place  she  had  waited  for  through  weary  years.  "  Dear," 
he  said,  looking  down  into  the  sweet  face  close  to  his, 
u  this  will  mean  hardship  for  you.  It  means  loneliness, 
discomfort,  privation  for  you." 

"  No,  Bradford !  No  !  "  she  cried  joyously.  "  It 
means  home,  rest,  peace.  It  means  a  hungry  heart 
satisfied." 

The  curtain  at  the  French  window  parted  and  Ansley 
Jickers  entered  unannounced  from  the  porch.  "  I  just 
gtopped  in,"  he  began,  "  to  take  Lennie Oh  1 " 


THE  ENTD 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


A     000042191     7 


